Birds of a Feather
by MediEvil Ways
Summary: A seer, who fled 27 years ago from Uther's persecutions, is returning and her arrival jumpstarts a series of events that encompass a truth seeking king, fighting dragons, a hell-bent witch and a certain warlock. Reveal fic in more ways than one. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimers**_: _The Adventures of Merlin_ belongs to the BBC and no infringements are intended. They don't own the character Aderyn, but they are welcome to her and so are you. ;)

_**A/N**_: Timeline is set after season 4 with flashbacks to the past. _Alba _is the old word for Scotland and _Dal Riata _is a historical fact. So are the repeated battles between the Irish settlers and the Picts in the area. _Aderyn _is an old Gaelic name and it means _bird_.

_**Summary**_: A seer, who fled 27 years ago from Uther's persecutions, is returning and her arrival jumpstarts a series of events that encompass a truth seeking king, fighting dragons, a hell-bent witch and a certain warlock. Reveal fic in more ways than one.

**BIRDS OF A FEATHER**

**Prologue**

When was it? The first time she saw a fleeting glance of what was to be. She could scarcely remember any more. The first time she felt unhinged emotions rip through her body and mind like an unstoppable tide? The first time living images forced their way through her soul, insisting to be sensed, felt and seen? The Sight. Stupid people envied her. Wise people pitied her. She herself bore her fate with grim determination, jaw set and eyes like steel.

She did remember the first time she realised that what she had seen would change her and Balinor's lives forever. Closing her eyes and concentrating, her mind rushed back to that special and pivotal moment in which precious and unique became terrifying. Glimpses of rusty red; her dress. Glimpses of dark forest green; Balinor's coat. The sound of laughter.

Laughter. Pearly and hearty.

Aderyn winced as the memory cut through her like diamond in glass.

"Balinor! Stop teasing!"

"Haha … my little bird. I shall not. You make it so easy and enjoyable."

A callused hand grabbing for her long black tresses. An offended squeal.

"That is not **fair. **You are much stronger than me, you oaf."

"But you know what is coming."

"So what. All you have to do is call for your big brute of a dragon, and you know my Sight will mean nothing."

The dragonlord's laughter deepened. "He is rather invincible, is our Kilgharrah."

A vicious golden gleam in her deep dark eyes and her foot shot out to fell the tall man, who dropped to the ground unceremoniously. Delirious with the feeling of triumph, Aderyn threw herself on top of the fallen man and thrust both her small fists into the dirt, each of them clutching a handful of black hair. Two sets of dark brown eyes met.

She hadn't meant to. In fact, she had done her best to avoid it. But this moment in Time and Destiny was stronger than she was. And so she saw it. A world of flames, an incarcerated golden dragon, their kin and friends hanging on a row in the gallows, even more burnt to a crisp on the pyre … and her beloved Balinor fleeing, soldiers hot on his heels.

Aderyn screamed.

She left him there; his face contorted with concern and his eyes full of questions. Balinor had magic, and his abilities as a dragonlord were legendary, but he did not have her Sight. And she ran like she had never run before, fleeing, hiding, escaping, her chest filling with a soul wrenching feeling of dread. But no one can outrun Destiny. She will find you eventually. In this case, it was Balinor, already knowing all her hiding places, who sniffed her up, wrapped her in his arms and teased the truth out of her. To her surprise, he didn't appear shocked.

"It's all right, little bird. We knew all along that this period of grace and bliss would not last. Uther has been far too aggressive lately for him to show promise of tolerance and leniency towards people of magic."

The big man kissed the shivering girl's wet cheek. "And this is why you must leave … no, don't argue with me. I am your elder after all. You will leave this place and seek refuge up north – as far as you can go. When once again this land is safe, I will send for you."

"I will not," she spat, appalled by the very thought of leaving him. "You will," he said firmly, indicating that this was not up for debate. "You are but 15, little bird. Your Sight is clear, but you do not control it and your magic powers are only beginning to show. You are no match for Uther and his horde of murderers."

"Who will have your back?" she sobbed.

She felt him smile against her cheek.

"Have you forgotten about Kilgharrah?"

She shook her head, but did not feel reassured. There was something. Something she had seen …

Balinor sent Aderyn on her way the next morning. And 20 miles later, she turned and came back after having a vision in which she saw the great dragon on a chain. Balinor sent her away again, laughing that he would like to see the man who could chain Kilgharrah. And she returned yet again after having seen Uther calling upon him, requesting him to mediate a truce with the same dragon. Obviously Aderyn didn't trust Uther's intentions. Finally Balinor sent her away for the last time, promising her that he would never let himself be caught or restrained by Uther or his men.

Her voyage was painful in more sense than one. The further away from Camelot and Balinor she went, the more she felt the link between them stretched and thinned. In the end, as she came closer and closer to the land called Alba, the link disappeared altogether and the Sight left her in peace.

Peace. In a new settlement called Dal Riata where Irish immigrants had made a life for themselves, Aderyn found some comfort despite random attacks from the indigenous people of the area. In many ways, the dulled state of her Sight was a great relief. In others, it presented a new anxiety. Now, she was truly in the dark as to what was happening to Balinor and their friends.

Until this very moment.

x

For 27 years she had heard absolutely nothing of Balinor. Now and then had she attempted to go south to see if she could catch a glimpse, yet every time had she been thwarted by ongoing wars between the various kingdoms. She did succeed in receiving some impressions, but they were always vague at best. At some point she had got a very happy impression of Balinor and a beautiful woman and her heart rejoiced. Had he found happiness at last? Then why did he not send for her? Then on another trip, she caught a feeling of rage and loneliness. … And something else she could not define.

She always returned to Dal Riata eventually, and the only good thing that these short trips achieved was a certain connection she established with the Picts, who – as a consequence of their growing friendship – eased up on their attacks on the settlers. Yet every time she went away, she found that they renewed their attacks and so she hesitated to go again. Eventually, in the fear of what her absence from the settlement cost the settlers, she stayed where she was.

Until this very moment.

This very moment when a clear vision of Balinor suddenly rammed into her even over this distance. Of course, the Sight had never left her; only now she received visions about people in the village, which enabled her to go to the Picts and negotiate before disaster struck. Gradually, she became more and more proficient and her powers of magic increased as well and enough to impress the Picts and make them respect her. The premonition proficiency made it possible for her to close her eyes, concentrate and focus on the person she needed a vision of. She was, in other words, able to control it.

Until this very moment.

Aderyn started packing.

The next day she left Alba without a second thought. And the strife between the Picts and the Irish settlers of Dal Riata exploded behind her.

x

_Cenred's former kingdom, 14 months later._

A high pitched whistle tore through the cool morning air, making even early birds rustle their feathers in shock. None of them attempted to answer in their tongue. They knew well enough, this call was not meant for them.

Not far from there, glinting, white scales and a long reptilian neck moved susceptibly like an agile snake. Large fiery orange eyes blinked and soft nostrils flared as the creature recognised its master's call. An empty feeling. Once there was a dragonlord that called its name and owned its heart. No more. Dark magic and ancient religion had emptied its mind and made it a tool.

The sharp whistle cut its way through the chilly wind again. Majestically, the large form turned slowly and spread its leathery wings, the skin absorbing the warmth of the rising sun. It need not fly. She was quite close.

"_Bane_ ..." the slim, austere figure in front of him said. The white dragon might have remembered another name had he been allowed, but that was a time long gone. Now, however, Bane thrust forward his long scaly muzzle and blew hot air onto the face of Morgana Pendragon.

"Hello, my precious gem," she smiled and laid a long, elegant hand on his nose ridge. A few strokes of affection and then the lady's beautiful water blue eyes glowed with molten lava.

"Today we will meet up with an old acquaintance of yours …

… you are ready!"

x

_**So did you like this short teaser? Are you intrigued? Who the heck is Aderyn and what is happening with Aithusa? Should I go on? Drop me a line and tell me good or bad.**_


	2. The Dragon's Attack

_Disclaimers_: All belongs to the BBC. No infringement intended.

_A/N_: About some of the names introduced in this chapter: _Eoforwic _is old English for the name of today's York. The town was built by the Romans in the area of Northumbria. A _vǫlva_ is a Norse seeress, in English sometimes _vala._ _Dan's Kingdom _is, according to _Saxo Grammaticus_' legendary work about the origin of Denmark, the ancient country of today's Denmark. There are other theories as to the origin of the country, but seeing Arthur and Merlin come from another legend, I have chosen to go with the legend theory rather than the perhaps more historically correct theory. The Norse name _Unn_ means 'love'.

**Chapter 1**

**The Dragon's Attack**

It was the most painful thing the young warlock had ever been subjected to. The scream of the pained creature cut through him like a blood thirsty razor, making him jump up and sit straight on his creaking and plaintive cot. Merlin looked round him, his thick hair standing on end like a hedgehog, his eyes darting from side to side in a frenzy manner, utterly confused. The night was dark and still, the castle calm and silent. His room was empty, save for himself, and lit only by a faint moonlight and a star here and there that peeked through the veil of clouds. What was going on? The warlock's muscles and sinews were strained to breaking point and he huffed like an athlete. Gradually, though, he seemed to calm down and fatigue overtook him. Just as he was ready to lie down again and disregard the whole thing as a nervous nightmare, his lean face contorted as intolerable pain shot through him again. Yet this time he was able to make out the voice that communicated suffering through him.

_Kilgharrah!_

Merlin hastily got out of bed and donned his clothes. The next thing that happened took him completely by surprise.

Merlin inhaled, felt something immensely powerful rush through him … and all of a sudden he found himself to be in the dragon's lair 40 leagues away from Camelot. After getting his bearings, gingerly catching his balance on the uneven rock floor, he concluded, bewildered: _I must have transported myself using magic_. Most noticeably the very day he arrived in Camelot those many years back, he had seen other sorcerers disappear into thin air and assumed they reappeared somewhere else, but he had never attempted it himself. Until now, when instinct had opted his magical powers to act on impulse.

Merlin soon forgot about his extraordinary feat when he saw the outline of his dragon friend in the lair. The large bulk of lizard limbs and body filled out almost the entire cave. Merlin's initial reaction was one of relief as he clearly saw the bulk heave. His friend was breathing! Yet his second observation caused a cold rush to shake his tall, lanky form. Something was not right. Kilgharrah's breathing was uneven and hollow.

_Merlin_, it came to him through their bond, _I am seriously wounded._

When Merlin reached the golden creature, he breathed a flame into his palm to allow him to examine his old friend in the darkness. The tentative flame cast a ghostly shine on the large dragon and the sight drew a sharp intake of breath from the warlock.  
There was blood! Lots of it. From deep gashes, torn scales and wide lacerations with jagged edges. He looked at the great dragon, empathy and sorrow filling his very being.

"What happened to you, old friend? Who or what could have done this to you?"

Who or what indeed. As far as Merlin knew, nothing could pierce through a dragon's scaly armour. He knew! He tried so by magic many years ago, and all it had elicited was a _don't think your petty magic can harm me!_ Arthur's spear had left a rather superficial scratch where the skin was soft and most vulnerable. However, on the outer layer of scales, it was impossible. This is why Kilgharrah had been chained those many years ago - because nothing could harm him. Reading his mind, Kilgharrah continued his trail of thought.

"Except another dragon."

There was no doubt as to whom this would be. There was, after all, only one other dragon in the world.

"No," Merlin whispered, his eyes brimming with uncontrollable emotion. "Not Aithusa ..."

"He is no longer Aithusa," Kilgharrah huffed, "he is now _Bane_, called so by Morgana, the witch."

Merlin dried his eyes with his sleeve. "Morgana? How...?"

A quick calming hand shot out and rested itself on the nose ridge of the large, but weak creature. "No, don't waste your energy telling me. I will heal you first and then you'll tell me everything."

"These wounds are far too deep for you to heal, young warlock," the dragon murmured sadly. But Merlin shook his head vehemently, his features relaying grim determination. "No, I will not allow that ..."

And as it was with disappearing and reappearing, Merlin's magic worked intuitively, like Destiny was leading his hand, controlling his skills, actions and intent. He put both his hands on the injuries and breathed spell upon spell into the cuts.

It was a long and hard process and it was an exhausted warlock that straightened, wiping his brow.

"There. I have done my best. If it works, it should also safe keep you from similar attacks in the future."

Kilgharrah smiled as far as a dragon can smile, already looking considerably better. "I heard you use the blood-spell. I had no idea you had become so accomplished, young friend."

"This cannot happen again," Merlin said firmly, stroking the dragon's cheek. "I cannot lose you," he added softly, "Now, sleep."

x

The tall dark figure stood clearly against the setting sun, making her contours shine with a peculiarly vibrant red glow. She was excited. And proud. The attack had been a success, she felt it through every pore in her skin. Ever since Bane had told her that he felt the presence of another dragon in the world, she had been searching high and low to find the other; and after she found him, it did not take her long to realise that for her to rule the sky completely, the other dragon had to be eradicated. Though she had accomplished gaining full control over Bane, this other dragon was a different matter. He was _the _Great Dragon. The same dragon that Uther had had chained up underneath Camelot Castle and who later escaped to launch attack after attack upon Camelot and its inhabitants. The witch sniggered girlishly. Arthur said he had killed him! She should have known better. Her brother was a useless git anyway. The Great Dragon must have flown away and healed her brother's so-called 'mortal blow'.

Be that as it may, she still was no dragonlord, which meant she could not control an old, seasoned dragon like the Great Golden Dragon.

The white dragon that had healed her, however, had been young enough for her to influence and use. The only thing she regretted was that she had befriended him before he had learned the human tongue. Though he spoke it now, the many spells she had used to gain complete control over him, had left his mind a void and thus unable to tell her how he had been born or who brought him to life.

Morgana's trail of thought was interrupted when she heard the tell-tale and characteristic flapping of large leathery wings. Bane was returning from his deed and even from this distance, she could see the outcome of the attack. The red colour enveloping her dragon's wings was not compliments to the setting sun.

Bane's wings were dripping with blood. Another dragon's blood.

"My boy," Morgana whispered under her breath, feeling a comforting warmth spreading in her chest. Her smile almost split her beaming face. "My boy."

x

Merlin stayed by Kilgharrah's side till early morning until he was certain that the wounds were closing and the dragon was healing. After the dragon had told Merlin about his encounter with former Aithusa, now Bane, in details, the young sorcerer took off, infinitely troubled by the unsettling news, but just as infinitely relieved that he apparently was a better dragon-healer than a human-healer.

His fatigue and inexperience with the disappearing/reappearing spell made him miss his destination by several leagues and he was forced to cover the remaining distance by foot, naturally being too late for serving the royal breakfast.

Merlin bit his lip when he entered the anteroom of the King and Queen's quarters. After his marriage, King Arthur took breakfast in another room together with his beloved wife, yet still insisted that Merlin serve them.

"WHAT … have you been doing this morning, Merlin!" Arthur thundered, secretly relieved that Gwen had left the room momentarily. She would have objected to the King addressing his manservant like this.

"Not only are you late, our breakfast is cold and you stink worse than a stable boy."

A very pale and tired warlock didn't even attempt to defend himself, except a feeble, 'out picking herbs'.

"Oh, picking herbs, were you?" Arthur repeated sarcastically, "well, if you're so fond of _picking_, you can pick **manure **for the rest of the day!"

"Okay," was all the king's manservant mumbled.

More than anything else this meek remark seriously worried the king. No smart reply? No insolent and sassy riposte? What was wrong with him? Completely out of character, Arthur asked, his voice now low and indicating a beginning concern, "Are you all right, Merlin?"

"Is Merlin ill?" came the soft and compassionate voice of the Queen by the door. She had just returned to the room and as usual her entrance and sweet countenance made Arthur smile and relax his features. She was so breathtakingly beautiful – in any way possible. Standing there in a dress so very different from the ones she had worn when he met her, her inner glow and kind heart more than proved that she was the same gracious and graceful woman.  
Gwen gasped when Merlin turned to face her. Her old friend was a whiter shade of pale than she had ever seen and he was slouching far more than usual. Whatever had happened during night time, it had exhausted and worn him out to no end.

"Arthur! He needs the day off. It's obvious!"

Growling, Arthur acquiesced. He was, rather, looking more spent and weak than Arthur had ever seen him before. Well … not counting the Dorocha attack, he mused.

"Very well," he murmured, "then take some time off – not the whole day, though. Just the morning."

Gwen scowled at her husband and the King winced, recognising an issue for debate later.

Had Merlin not been so bone tired, the warlock would have smiled. Since Gwen's introduction as Camelot's queen, his work life had become considerably easier.

Despite Arthur's protest, Gwen accompanied Merlin back to Gaius' quarters herself, prodding her old friend gently as they walked down the corridor, "So what **have** you been doing all night?"

Merlin winced inwardly, regretting the fact that not only did he have to lie to his king now – but also to his queen. "I really was picking herbs, Gwen, but I think I may be coming down with something on top of being forced into slave labour by Arthur."

He felt her lovely form chuckle good-humouredly by his side. "Easy there," she said, "after all, he **is** my husband now. But I'll talk to him about giving you more time off."

"Nah, don't bother," Merlin said, "I just need to recover from this bug first – whatever it is."

Gaius was on his rounds when Gwen and Merlin entered the court physician's home. Upon Merlin's own request, Gwen eased him into a chair by the table and poured him a cup of water. Having made sure that he actually drank something before she left, she turned and made for the door when her friend intoned: "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Not at all," said Gwen and opened the door. As she swung round to close the door behind her, she added: "Oh, and Merlin …?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Highness again and I will beat you senseless with my heavy crown."

Her pearly laughter disappeared down the corridor, leaving a sniggering Merlin that already felt considerably better.

x

It took Aderyn many months before she found a witch she trusted enough to ask the questions most on her mind. Her voyage had been on foot, muddy and slow and the closer she came to the south, the more people were less inclined to talk about magic matters, and so her questions had been feeble and inconsequential at best. It was not until she reached Eoforwic in Northumbria that she found a visiting _vǫlva_, who was not only willing, but also eager to speak. Being a vǫlva of Dan's Kingdom across the sea, this seer didn't fear the wrath of Camelot or anybody else. As a frequent guest at the taverns, Aderyn knew about the vǫlva from drunken sorcerers and her own visions, but she was still somewhat uncertain as to the vǫlva's precise location. Eoforwic had grown since the Romans founded it, and it was now the largest and busiest town in the area of Northumbria. This made the search for the vǫlva considerably more complicated as there was more ground to cover. However, it also made it easier for her to go unnoticed and disappear in the crowd.

Thus Aderyn braced herself for a steady but wide search – what she didn't foresee, however, was that the vǫlva was looking for her in return. This was brought to her attention in a somewhat straightforward way when she was grabbed by two ruffians, who quickly removed her from the street. Aderyn didn't even have time to fight back. She was quickly shoved through a door by rough hands and soon found herself inside a dark low-ceiling place with its windows covered with heavy tapestries. The room was inhabited by one person only; a very young and calm woman, who sat by a small table upon which surface the room's only source of illumination was placed. The silent figure reached out, took another candle that had been lying in her lap and lit it. She placed it next to the first candle, both of them flickering in tandem and making her eyes blink in response to this sudden increase of light. A discreet movement was all she needed to make the ruffians let Aderyn go, and as soon as the involuntary guest was free, she lashed out at them – just for good measure. Had this taken place in Alba, she would have banged their heads together using magic. But this was not Alba and she would have to be careful and move incognito.

"Such zest," the still figure said softly. Aderyn opened her mouth to deliver an angry retort when it occurred to her: The figure had spoken in another tongue, yet she had understood her nonetheless.

"I am Unn, daughter of Svala, the most famous vǫlva in Dan's Kingdom."

Aderyn blinked; there was something about the way this Unn spoke that relaxed her more than she'd care for. Even her name had a profound calming effect on her. In fact, the vǫlva had not turned out to be what Aderyn had expected at all. The 42-year-old seer had imagined a more experienced and much older woman, toothless and wrinkled. Yet there she sat, the famed vǫlva, with healthy thick, reddish hair, calm grey eyes, smooth skin with freckles and glistening white teeth. Blinking, Aderyn didn't quite know if she could trust her own faculties.

"And you probably know who I am," she finally said slowly.

The being in front of her laughed. It was a very young laugh.

"This is true, Aderyn. I have seen the future and I will share it with you."

"Why?"

"Because I have seen myself sharing it with you."

Aderyn shook her head gently. Though having the Sight herself, this kind of circular Destiny claims never was her tankard of mead. One should act according to one's beliefs and ethics – not according to what was said would happen. _It is a matter of free will_, she always preached to Balinor's deaf ears.

"Well, then, by all means. Tell me what you have seen."

_Tell me and I shall make up my own mind_, she secretly added in her thought.

Warily, Aderyn sat, gradually reaching her mind out towards the woman in front of her. She had met so many fake seers, all of which were merely in the game to earn money. As if the vǫlva read her mind, she said: "I shall tell you all I know, and then I will leave it up to you what you will pay me."

Aderyn smirked; she had wondered when money would enter the equation.

Unn closed her eyes and suddenly the air of the place seemed to sizzle with energy. Her breath became soft and regular and then she opened her mouth.

"You are searching the one magical being that will unite Albion."

Aderyn's eyebrows popped up. This was indeed what her vision had been about – partly, at least.

Unn drew a heavy sigh, blinked placidly and continued:

"His name is _Emrys_. The Druids know him well. He is the most powerful sorcerer of all times. Any other magician's powers pale in his comparison. The prophecies tell us that he will guide and advice the Once and Future King and that they will create Albion and rule it together."

_So far, so good_, Aderyn thought. This was exactly what she had seen.

"And you are looking for a man named Balinor."

This time Aderyn could not subdue the hissing intake of her breath.

"I saw him, I saw his face, but I did not know who he is," the vǫlva said, her voice now puzzled and her grey eyes hollow like she had cast her glance into a world beyond the one she knew. Anyone magical from Albion would know who Balinor was; but of course, this woman was from another country entirely, Aderyn reminded herself.

"He is the last dragonlord," Aderyn murmured, pride in her voice.  
The vǫlva's subsequent comment was a shock.

"No, he is not."

Aderyn gasped. And Unn continued:

"He is dead."

x

_**Liked it so far? More? Let me know.**_


	3. Seeking Information

_**Disclaimers**_: Merlin belongs to the BBC – we're just playing with him. ;)

_**A/N**_**:** _Coed _means 'dwells in the woods' – a suitable name for a Druid, I thought. ;) _Knucklebones_: ancient game probably imported by the Romans. You play it by throwing bone pieces in the air and try to catch as many of them as possible when they come down.

**Chapter 2**

**Seeking Information**

It was a highly surprised Gaius who came through the door to find his ward sitting by the table, the young man's face still rather pale. The old court physician's infamous eyebrow crawled up his brow and remained close to his hairline as he put down his basket with medication and herbs and slowly and deliberately sat himself down in front of the warlock, whom he had come to love as his own son.

"Merlin," he said softly, "what is it? You are deadly pale and your eyes are lifeless"

Merlin attempted a smile, but ended up emitting a deep sigh. "Kilgharrah was attacked tonight."

His old mentor let out a small gasp and his eyebrow finally gave up its high position and came down in a sympathetic frown.

"That is why you weren't in your room this morning?" Gaius deduced, "how did it happen?"

Merlin winced, disinclined to divulge the cause; the truth about the attack hurt so much. "Aithusa attacked him … commanded by Morgana."

"What? Impossible!" Gaius cried, appalled.

"Apparently not, according to Kilgharrah. I met up with him in his lair. His skin was covered with deep lacerations that were bleeding profusely. I spent the entire night healing him."

Merlin closed his eyes momentarily, the very memory of fighting for the dragon's life wearing him down.

" - and afterwards he told me he had spotted Aithusa quite close to the Lake of Avalon when his white kin suddenly had turned on him without warning."

"But what has Morgana..."

Merlin didn't let his old friend finish the sentence. "Kilgharrah hadn't seen Aithusa for a couple of years. The adolescent dragon had dropped out of contact. Not an uncommon thing for young dragons, as I understand it. Kilgharrah had been suitably worried, but not scared. Then yester night Kilgharrah saw the adult Aithusa for the first time and was immediately attacked, unprovoked, brutally and without preamble."

"But Morgana ..."

"... was pulling the strings. Kilgharrah reached into Aithusa's mind and found only a void – and an echo of dark magic with Morgana's signature."

The horror in Gaius' face mirrored Merlin's expression. The implications of Merlin's story were overwhelming:

Morgana now had a dragon at her beck and call – even beyond the last dragonlord's reach. Gaius' hue quickly matched that of his apprentice.

The gods of the new and old religion have mercy on them all!

x

It wasn't just the sudden shift between darkness and sunlight that made Aderyn stagger when she came out of the vǫlva's cabin. The very impact of what she had learned there made her bodily balance evade her for a while as she digested the unwanted and mind blowing news. Aderyn felt her chest grow cold with shock and felt how her breathing quickly became ragged.

Balinor dead?

The seasoned woman with the long, black hair stopped momentarily and leaned against a fir fence, desperately working on catching her breath. She did not believe it. She didn't want to believe it. It wasn't true! All those years wondering about him, longing for him to send for her, thinking about him every day. Hoping and knowing that they would meet again. Impossible. She would have known. She would have felt it.

But she couldn't have, could she?, she realised with a start. After all, she had been too far away to sense him. The short trips she had taken towards the south hadn't brought her close enough at all.

She caught herself; then what about the feeling she had had as she this time went further south? What about the feeling she had now? She _did _feel him. She was sure of it. As certain as sunlight follows rain, as spring follows winter, she could sense a trace of his being, a tingling of his personality, a touch of his magic. It was faint, but it was there.

Aderyn's deep, brown eyes hardened; he was alive, she was certain of it. And she would trail this small sensation of Balinor to its source and find him. Unn was wrong. She had to be. After all, she was a outlander. The last dragonlord lived and she would find him.

Straightening her back, standing erect, Aderyn the Seer summoned her dying embers, curbed her feeling of loss, wrapped it up and stuffed it down and into her gut – and then took the first step towards her Destiny.

x

_Coed_!

Coed was the only Druid who came to mind when Aderyn contemplated whom to contact. Yet it had been 27 years! Who knew where Coed was – or if he was even alive still? She estimated his age to be 60-65, and thus he could very well be dead, either by illness, accident or a run-in with Uther.

But she had to try.

For Balinor.

Tears burned behind her eyelids and when they surfaced, she wiped them away with an angry gesture. Tears would get her nowhere. Determination would get her everywhere. One thing at a time. Now she had to focus on the next target: the Druid _Coed_.

This meant going further south and thus approaching the – for a magical being – infinitely more dangerous Camelot. Uther was no longer the king, she knew. He had been murdered by a sorcerer, or so the rumour said. His son Arthur had taken over the kingdom and appeared every bit as aggressive towards magic as his father had been. She sighed; this did not bode well for the fate of her Druid friend. The last time she had spoken to Coed, he and his people were dwelling in Mercia. Aderyn didn't really think she would find him there, but she might just find people who did know where he might had gone.

Of course, there was also Alator of the Catha, but she dismissed the thought the second she had got it. Alator had always been the violent type, never holding back when information was to be drawn out of people. She vividly remembered a discussion between Balinor and the Catha leader in which the dragonlord had advocated for the diplomatic approach towards Uther and Alator had been adamant that violence was the only certain means to peace.

Aderyn shivered involuntarily. Alator had been so young, idealistic, so unforgiving.

Implacable.

No, she didn't need that. If Aderyn went to him asking questions of somebody powerful, she had no doubt that Alator (if **he** still lived) would just as soon use mental torture on her to get every scrap of knowledge she had.

Aderyn shivered again.

Two days later the tall, dark-haired woman stuck her head inside a tavern called "The Merry Rooster" in Breedon. She had been walking in pouring rain the last couple of hours before she reached the old place in Mercia and was thus drenched to the bone. Her first move, therefore, was getting a room where she quickly took off her wet clothes and replaced them with dry ones before going down to the tavern that was already full of people.

The heated mead that was put in front of her was probably the best ale she had ever got in her life. And the same stock would probably feel like the worst come morning, she grinned to herself.

After a couple of tankards, she felt warm and merry enough to join a game activity at one of the tables. In the corner of her eye, she had noticed a group of chipper travellers and locals who played knucklebones rather noisily. As discreetly as she could muster, Aderyn inched closer and soon she was contributing to the game with little squeals of laughter and adoring comments on the achievement of some of the men. They even let her throw the bones at some point, and Aderyn made sure to miss them all to the relieved laughter of the assembly.

Later she drank mead with the victor whose winnings thus were put to good use; she saw before her a drunken sod that might know somebody who knew somebody who had heard … and he saw a charming, mature woman with a handsome face, long, black hair, a slightly aquiline nose, prominent eyebrows and dark, dark brown eyes that twinkled at him.

Within the hour, she had drunk him under the table having extricated information on a fellow called Barker who lived near Repton and who supposedly had talked to some Druids recently.

Aderyn didn't waste any time. Next morning, with a slightly buzzing head, she left the tavern never to return and briskly walked towards Repton that was situated merely five leagues west of Breedon.

The rain had stopped and the frisky air made her walk pleasant and fast; she reached the farmer's place within three hours.

The farm was a ruin. The animals appeared reasonably healthy; a few cows were mooing plaintively and some ducks had developed an unfortunate plucking-habit, but other than that, they appeared to be well treated. However, the equipment, fence and troughs were clearly in a decaying state. Aderyn smiled. Even if this one didn't feel like talking, a couple of coins would probably persuade him otherwise.

She found him in the fields, ploughing and told him she was a tired traveller, who needed to sit down and enjoy some refreshment – for a price, of course. Within ten minutes they were sitting down and sharing a bottle of last year's apple cider. His wife and children had gone for the market, fortunately, as this made the burly man more talkative.

"The Druids, yeah.." he said, musing.

"Wasn't it risky?" Aderyn asked, blinking her eyes and adopting a face that looked suitably impressed and a little intimidated. Inwardly, she winced. She was just about the age when this manipulative behaviour appeared less convincing than when she had been a teenager. Yet a silent, hushed spell had helped softening this simple man. In his eyes, she probably did appear very young and vulnerable. Aderyn wasn't capable of controlling people, but she knew how to soften them, using both magic and a particular tone of voice.

The farmer chuckled jovially. "No, no – the Druids are quite peaceful, contrary to what most people think. I mean..." he added, looking at her ingenuous face , "... yes, it was – of course, it was. I do believe my life was in _grave_ danger."

Obviously this was a lie. And, she'd wager, not the first time he had delivered it. Aderyn inwardly bit her lip. She had wanted him talkative – not lying through his teeth. If she was to make this man tell the truth, she would have to use a different approach. The seer put two calming hands on his and looked into his eyes. Then her eyes went somewhat vacant and she intoned with a carefully modified voice:

"If you're thinking of having an affair with that young milkmaid over at Geoff's, don't do it. You family life is so much more important than this short thrill."

The farmer jumped in his seat. The second that Aderyn had touched his hands and looked into his eyes, she had seen his future and it made her weep: A silly, meaningless affair, the young girl accusing him of rape when she finds herself to be pregnant, his wife taking the children and leaving him. Himself hanging from a rope.

This was her gift. Her magnificent talent. By touch and concentration she could take a peep into a person's future; his choices and fate. And every time she tried to save the same person from his or her own stupidity. Every time she thought it would work. It never did.

Still, her words had an extraordinary effect on the farmer. He blanched, retracted his hands as if hers had burned him and cried: "What? What? Have you talked to Clodagh? She's lying, you know. I never touched her."

"And the Druids?"

"I just twisted my ankle one day and they came out from the north end of the oak forest and helped me. Their leader was a man called Edmyg.

Aderyn smiled reassuringly and got up.

"Thank you. You have been very kind. And I'm sure that you won't mention our little chat to anyone – and that you'll stay away from Clodagh."

Her last impression of the poor farmer was a red face that went up and down like an over-eager squirrel.

Aderyn left the farmer's land and instantly turned west towards the oak forest. She hoped very much that she had been successful in covering her trail. Yet no matter how careful we tread, some unexpected detail might evade our attention. Behind her, one of the vǫlva's ruffians thought he could earn a farthing or two by mentioning the evidently important name of _Emrys_ in the local tavern.

x

Merlin returned to his duties the same afternoon, still somewhat wobbly, but on his feet compliments to a pick-me-up administered by Gaius. The king had gone to the training arena which meant that Merlin could get cosy with his laundry and be alone with his thoughts.

The attack on his dragon friend had left him moody and pondering. Wondering if they would ever be allowed to live in peace devoid of random and frequent sorcerer attacks.

The ever surviving Morgana was getting steadily stronger and now she had taken Aithusa – **his** Aithusa – the dragon **he** had brought into the world – and made him a monster. Merlin shivered. The enormity of his destiny, life and continuous decisions suddenly crashed down on top of him, the cause and effect of it presenting impossible variables to him.

Had he not insisted on honouring his status as dragonlord, he would not have gone for the egg, he would not have brought the last dragon into life – and without knowing it thus handed Morgana a deadly tool. Or perhaps Morgana had not been this vengeful if he had trusted her with his secret in the first place.

Merlin shook his head. This was silly. If he insisted on taking it this far back, why not start with him going to the dragon in the first place? Had he not set the creature free, they would never have needed a dragonlord to help them and his father would have been alive and thus Aithusa would not have been born. The warlock shook his head ever harder, burying his long bony fingers in his thick, black hair. He had to stop this self-deprecation and self-blame. Had he chosen another path, this would probably not have happened, but other people might have died.

Would have, should have, might have, could have.

Cause and effect.

Merlin closed his eyes in the sheer pain of having such a heavy burden of responsibility on his shoulders. Right here, right now, he would have sold his blasted destiny to be the one sorcerer who helped the Once and Future King to unite the land – for a bloody farthing.

Mighty and powerful!

Hah!

"I am tiny," Merlin murmured. "We are all tiny, struggling to find our place in life and our position within Destiny. And most of all, we make our decision to the best of our ability. Not until afterwards do we know if it was the right one."

It had been like this since he could remember. And every time he had attempted to take matters into his own hands, steering his life in another direction, something had happened to redirect him to Destiny's path. It didn't matter how sane and rational his choices had been, even in hindsight. Fate would have its way. The Crystal Cave had been a glaring example of this.

The young warlock rose, making laundry tumble from his lap and onto the floor in the process. He sighed.

Well, what could he do about it? Time and again he had had to realise that Destiny had its own will. All he could do was trying to be a decent person and to survive. So clearly it was Destiny's will that Morgana had stolen the white dragon. The next move had been his and he had already taken it.

He had made Kilgharrah invincible.

He trembled, however, at the thought of what might be Morgana's next move.

x

Rather than making it, Morgana's next move came to her. Within a month, Emrys' name reached her ear when she was out picking herbs and shopping for meat. A somewhat cheerful and unhealthily heavy butcher delivered a funny story about how a mate of his had been beaten senseless for mentioning a particularly powerful "merys" Druid in a tavern close to the Essetir border. The tavern keeper in question had been leading the assault against the man, making him swear he would never again risk his business by implying that anything magical had a place at his establishment. The butcher laughed; apparently the unfortunate man's bulging eyes had looked particularly funny while he had been thrashed.

Yet the whole story had an amazing effect on Morgana. The tall, dark woman had stopped right there and then in her dealings and stared at the butcher like he had just fallen from the sky.

Later that night, Morgana got the full story by means vastly different from Aderyn's. The cocky butcher was fed a truth extracting bug that made him sing faster than any bird, and in a matter of a few seconds Morgana knew that the unfortunate man who had mentioned Emrys' name came from Mercia and that the tavern in question had been "The black Horse" in Croft.

The witch was trembling. Someone else than herself was looking for Emrys and she was almost certain as to whom it would be. Arthur! Arthur had heard of her enemy. Whether this was good or bad, she had no idea. Emrys was her arch enemy and he seemed to support Arthur. But did Arthur know that? What if he had no idea? If he came across this dangerous sorcerer, would he not react like he and his father always had?

A slow smile spread across the witch's hateful features.

What a suitable ending to Emrys that would be. Such an ironic fate. Such a nemesis.

Such a joy!

x

Despite a serious deficit of sleep, Merlin went to see his patient the same night, and fortunately the diagnose was exhilarating. The great dragon was healing fast and had become considerably more lively compared to the warlock's last visit. Kilgharrah was still not ready to move, but Merlin came prepared and left two young deer with his friend.

"Would you rather have fish?" he asked when he noticed his friend's wrinkling his nose.

"No, it's not that," Kilgharrah said, a little hoarse.

"Then what?"

"I don't usually take my meat raw, young warlock."

"And?"

"Well …."

For once the great dragon appeared almost embarrassed.

"You're in the way," he finally admitted.

Merlin looked at him in momentary confusion, but then understood.

"Oh! I see. Well, my job's done here. You're quickly on the mend, thank god. I'll be back tomorrow, bringing some more food. Deer again? Well good. I'm afraid the royal farmers would notice if I brought you a couple of cows."

The warlock quickly made his exit after these words, yelling while he went: "No, not out yet. Still within the lair. Not quite there yet...!"

Safely out of the cave, he jumped aside and cried 'go'. The result was a roar of fire that licked the edges of the entrance, making the rock too hot for him to lean on. The flame was followed by a rather charred smell that made Merlin ever so slightly nauseous.

Yelling 'good appetite', he sprinted down the rock side until he came to a flat area. From this point he disappeared and reappeared rather close to Camelot. A little too close for comfort, he realised, when he knocked over a goat in a pasture in one of the outskirts as he landed. Merlin looked at the unconscious goat. Kilgharrah's breakfast perhaps? But Merlin decided against it and woke up the goat instead, gently putting a finger on its forehead and sending a soft energy burst through its skull. A missing goat would rouse too much attention, he decided.

x

_**Like it still? Tell me and I will continue.**_


	4. Spreading the Word

**_Disclaimers_: **You know the drill …

**A/N**: Watch out for a little torture this time – but nothing graphic, I promise. Other than that, cheers ever so much for your kind comments.

**Chapter 3**

**Spreading the Word**

"**NO, NO! PLEASE NO MORE!**"

The man's face was getting increasingly redder the longer he was hanging upside down, and Morgana concluded that the late butcher had been right: His friend's eyes **did** look funny when they were bulging.

"You want something from me? But how is that fair when you're not giving me what I want?" she asked coolly while adding a little more wood to the fire that she had lit directly beneath the panicking man's head.

"**But I don't know what you want**," the man wailed while the flames began to lick his ears greedily. The hair was already gone.

"It's easy," the witch said, her face feigning sympathy, "just tell me what you know about Emrys and the name of the person who told you about him. Also, it would help your case if you coughed up the names of all the others whom you told this."

"**AAHHH! AHHH – AA – I – I CAN'T THINK!**"

"Sure you can," Morgana hissed and blew air into the fire, making embers jump from the firewood and onto her victim's cheeks where they left a pattern of red dots and a small trail of bluish smoke. He screamed.

Morgana giggled, "No one can hear you, you know. Now, how well done do you want to be? It's entirely up to you. The longer it takes you to spill the beans, the more roasted you'll become."

It went fast from there. The tortured man quickly listed the people he had been talking to, including the man who had told him about Emrys in the first place.

Bane's dark mistress eventually turned and walked away, leaving behind her a human flame, who had finally stopped screaming. A smug grin spread over her face, She was satisfied; this fire would eradicate all traces of her enquiry, just as the next fire she was planning to light would make sure that Arthur got the word: That his sister was looking for a mighty sorcerer with whom she could form an alliance against the king. A couple of visits to a few taverns would do the trick, she was sure, and the rumour would spread faster than any fire. Soon, Arthur would hear of her "plans" and he would hasten to seek out this powerful Emrys himself. Taking Arthur's hatred towards magic into consideration, one of two things would then happen: Arthur would kill Emrys without preamble or they would engage in such a magnificent battle and thus be otherwise preoccupied when she attacked Camelot with her dragon. Either way, she would win.

Morgana just couldn't stop smiling.

x

"Are you **sure** you know where we are?"

Sir Percival looked at his friend and co-knight with a dubious expression. Gwaine had assured him that _The Shining Arch _was a good deal cheaper and more cheerful than _The Rising Sun_. What he had failed to inform his friend of was that this particularly coveted tavern was situated faaaar away from Camelot.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Gwaine retorted, looking a little miffed. Percival popped an eyebrow at him and more than mouthed 'when haven't you', which earned him the remains of an apple, which Gwaine had been munching on, right in the face.

The suave knight grumbled and led on – not about to admit that the blatant similarity between the forest ahead and the forest of Essetir troubled him just as much as it troubled Percival. In fact, they should have reached _The Shining Arch _long ago.

Gwaine turned to the right down a forest path, trying to look confident. To his right was forest – and to his left was forest. And even to Gwaine, who had been to so many places in his life, the forest of Essetir very much looked like the forest of Mercia. Hoping for the best and sending his friend a blinding, albeit fake, smile, Gwaine then led them out of the forest and down a more rocky path … and emitted a silent sigh of relief when a cabin appeared at the bottom of the valley. Of course, this tavern was called _The Tinkling Tankard_, and not _The Shining Arch_, but Gwaine considered this minor fact to be a small, insignificant detail.

"See? I told you we would get here!"

This remark earned Gwaine a shove in the back. "Just not the right tavern, you dope!" Percival cried. They soon stopped bickering, though; the place had nowhere near the jolly atmosphere of _The Rising Sun_, and the two friends were met by a collective, good old-fashioned antipathy when they entered the room. Everybody sat hanging over their tankards, smacking their jaws in disgust and leering at the newcomers, very clearly communicating that this place did not look friendly on strangers.

Gwaine, however, felt at home in every kind of tavern and sat down, loudly ordering two pints of chilled mead. The innkeeper, a skinny man of 50 odd, slammed down the order, mead spurting from the tankards. "You'll get it lukewarm like everybody else," he sneered, "drink up and get out. We don't like strangers here."

"You could have fooled me," Percival contributed wryly. "I'm not surprised," Gwaine grinned, winking at his friend, who took the insult in his stride.

Both men downed their mead and very soon Percival didn't care one way or the other that the drink was warm and the company dubious. When the innkeeper put down their fourth order, a very drunk Gwaine winked at him and cocky as hell, asked: "So what's new r-round 'ere hick, oh most charming and hospitable friend?"

"Nothing," the innkeeper growled, "and drink up – this one's your last."

"Aaaaw," Percival drawled, "don't be such a party-pooper. Join us instead!"

This generous offer didn't seem to appease the man, so he snarled instead: "We'll soon be rid of the likes of you! Bloody arrogant knights – just wait. Morgana and Emrys will soon flatten your sort."

And then he spat.

"Morgana and hick who?" Gwaine asked with a slurred voice. However, Percival, suddenly sobering, had taken offence and was getting up from his stool that his sudden movement sent scooting over the flooring planks. The tall knight reached out a strong hand and grabbed the scrawny innkeeper by the shirt.

"The man asked you a question, you miserable twit. Morgana and WHO?"

The somewhat powerful and unexpected move shocked the innkeeper and reduced him to a shaking bundle of nerves. Now both the king's knights stood leering over him, and both of them appearing sober on the spot. The man's behaviour changed radically.

"Now, now, gents. No need to get upset there. After all, it's just a silly rumour."

"Then what's the harm in telling us," Gwaine smiled, showing shiny white fangs.

"Right, you are, fine sirs, right you are … now, if your tall friend here would just ease up a bit."

Gwaine and Percival looked at the each other and the latter loosened his grip in the innkeeper's dirty rags just enough to make it easier for him to speak. The unfortunate man cleared his throat gingerly.

"It's just a hearsay, mind you," he assured, "but the rumour has it that the witch Morgana is looking for a particularly powerful colleague of hers – by the name of Emrys."

"To do what?" Percival wanted to know.

"Eeerrrm, who knows, eminent sirs."

Percival reacted to the man's hesitation b y squeezing the shirt knot a bit, adding: "Tell us, why don't you?"

The innkeeper was now squirming like a fish on a hook, wailing: "I … I really don't know! To overthrow the king? To set up a potions business? To make a family? I DON'T KNOW!"

Percival finally let the man go and both knights left in a hurry.

Morgana attacking the king by herself was bad enough. Morgana in league with a powerful ally would be a disaster.

x

It didn't take Aderyn very long to find the forest where the Druids were dwelling and it didn't take them long to find her. Their empathy literally floated through the air and beckoned her to come and soon she found herself in their cavern. Completely unafraid, she stepped in and instantly felt like she was coming home. The dwelling was well hidden underneath massive oak roots, carefully and skilfully camouflaged by bushes round the tree. The smell of moist, humus rich soil greeted her like an old friend and the faint light that emanated from the depths brought memories back from a long lost time of her life. A group of people approached, and a grey haired, somewhat chunky fellow stepped out, his eyes meeting hers in complete understanding.

"Edmyg?" she asked. The Druid nodded. "'Tis I. You are Aderyn."

"Yes," she acquiesced, "have you heard of me from Coed?"

Edmyg nodded, "You are the seer, and you disappeared further up north when Uther chained the great dragon."

"Yes," she said, her voice almost hoarse with emotion and anticipation, "I know it has been long. Is Coed here?"

One blink of the Druid's eye was all it took, and Aderyn knew that Coed was dead.

"And Balinor?" she asked, her voice trembling now. This time the Druid didn't blink, but met her eyes, relaying deep sorrow.

"No." Her voice was so low that it almost disappeared in the cavern; her entire being started to shiver ever so slightly and a feeling of going to a million shattered pieces overtook her.

"What happened?" she managed to whisper, sitting down on a stone, her legs shaking hard.

"We are not sure," said Edmyg and sat with her, taking care not to touch her. "We know only that the great dragon came free and started attacking Camelot and that Uther sent for him to harness the creature."

Aderyn blinked at him, trying to hold back a flood of tears, "Edmyg, you must remember: I know absolutely nothing. I lived in Alba for 27 years and have heard no news at all. What happened to Balinor after I left?"

Edmyg gave one nod and started narrating Balinor's fate.

"When Uther betrayed him and chained the great dragon, Balinor fled east and came to a small village called Ealdor where he lived in peace for a short while. Then Uther's soldiers forced him to carry on and he disappeared somewhere between Camelot and Mercia. Then four years ago, the dragon burst free and attacked Camelot, and Uther sent his son to find the last dragonlord. Balinor agreed to help and followed Arthur back through the forest of Essetir – where he was attacked and killed."

There it was. A short and factual tale of Balinor's last days on earth. With some interesting holes.

"How, Edmyg, exactly how did he die? Who attacked him? Why could he not fend for himself?"

Edmyg shook his head gently. "Nobody but Arthur Pendragon knows this, Aderyn."

"Then I will ask him," she said, straightening her back and angrily wiping her tears away. Then she turned her wet face round and stared into the Druid's eyes which had a startling effect on the man. _Yes_, she thought grimly, _you know what I can do when I look people into the eyes_.

"I have one more question: What do you know about Emrys?"

The Druid clamped his eyes shut resolutely and then said, "The prophecies mention a powerful sorcerer who is destined to unite all of Albion. His is called Emrys. That is all."

"That is all you know? Or all you are prepared to tell me?"

Edmyg didn't respond, but kept his eyes firmly shut. Aderyn briefly considered reaching out and touching him, but thought the wiser of it. After all, she was not Alator.

The black-haired seer felt weak and shattered when she left the Druid cavern. She had, in fact, found very little. The facts on Emrys she already knew, and again she was told that the last dragonlord was dead. However, she caught herself, she now knew that King Arthur had been present at Balinor's death. And she would find out the truth about his death even if it was the last thing she did.

As she holstered up her gear and started walking towards the west, she had the strangest feeling – again – that people were wrong about Balinor being dead. She could still feel him; sense the very essence of him. On her way to Camelot, she would pass the route that Balinor and Arthur took through the forest of Essetir. She might as well seek out the precise spot where he fell. Ostensibly fell.

x

Both knights were wincing when King Arthur reacted to their news of Morgana and the new sorcerer in town; more, perhaps, on account of the tavern after-effects than because of the actual high-pitched voice of their king. Arthur rose from the beautifully adorned round table and started pacing like a lion in a cage, clearly upset. The other knights were looking at Gwaine, Percival and Arthur alternately, Gwen eyed her husband attentively and Gaius looked at the pale and tired face of Merlin, who, beside the pacing king, was the only one not sitting. It had taken Merlin a few seconds to realise that someone had actually mentioned Emrys and Morgana in the same sentence at a tavern. The initial shock had drained his face of all its hue and his eyes had widened, but now he simply looked tired. Gaius sighed inwardly; as if the boy hadn't enough on his mind.

"Arthur," the Queen's voice rang firm and clear, "we have beaten Morgana and her minions before. We shall do it again. One more sorcerer does not make a big difference. Remember Morgause? A powerful duo, she and Morgana. Yet, we overcame them."

Gwen's comment stopped Arthur in his tracks, he looked at his wife with eyes full of love. "Yes, we did – thanks to all of you. And thanks to an extraordinary good fortune that even I don't quite know how to explain. However, we cannot afford to wait and see how powerful this new sorcerer is. We must take precautionary measures."

"And pray that we eradicate this evil once and for all," the King added, murmuring. Merlin heard him. Loud and clear. And his heart cringed by the very thought that Arthur still hated magic so much that he felt that every inch of it must be eliminated. And this was his fault entirely. Arthur had been warming up to magic before his father was wounded. Had Merlin/Dragoon not bungled the healing of King Uther, Arthur might very well have allowed magic years ago. The warlock closed his eyes in pain; there it was again: All his good intentions gone awry, thwarted by Fate. Or rather, by Morgana. Merlin opened his eyes and his face had attained a new, more determined expression. The King was right – they would have to find out what Morgana was up to. And the second after, Arthur voiced his thoughts:

"I want all knights out there, investigating the link between Morgana and this Emrys. I want to know who he is, what he wants and what his business with Morgana is."

Well … **all** the knights in action was, perhaps, overdoing it. The prat was obviously panicking.

"Arthur," Merlin said, "wouldn't it leave us too open for attack? For all we know, this might be her strategy – to rattle our cage and prompt us to empty Camelot of our finest defence?"

Arthur looked at him in surprise. He was still gobsmacked when Merlin actually sounded … wise. He opened his mouth to offer his manservant a sarcastic reply when he remembered where they were. The Round Table! All were equal round the table and all were allowed to have an opinion.

"A valid point," he then acquiesced, "I will send one third of my army of knights on this mission and keep two thirds here, ready to defend Camelot, should she choose to attack."

The decision was applauded all round the table, and one knight in particular eyed Merlin closely.

As the assembly left the room, Merlin was stopped by a firm hand and a friendly pat on his back. Gwaine swung him round to face him, sporting a jovial grin.

"Careful, there, Merlin. If you keep getting brilliant ideas, you might be running the show eventually."

It was meant as a joke, but Merlin briefly wondered what lay behind it. "You mean the defence-remark? During these meetings, I've been listening in, you know, getting more strategic knowledge. Besides, it was only logical."

Gwaine leaned over, still carrying a smell of mead on his breath from the night before. Merlin winced slightly. "Do us a favour, though. See if you can't make the princess stay here. No need for him to stick out his neck and have his head, empty as it might be, severed from his body."

Merlin nodded and smiled, warm at heart, as he sensed his friend's other concern: Merlin himself. If the king remained in safety, so would his manservant.

Gwaine left with the other knights, a frown on his brow still. He had always known that Merlin was far brighter than the others realised, but lately it was as if his intelligence had multiplied by a factor of ten; his whole demeanour, way of walking and tone of voice had changed. Almost as if the young man was lit by a light within and the simple appearance of a commoner had disappeared. No, not disappeared.

Like it had never really existed in the first place.

When Arthur returned to his chamber the same afternoon, he found Merlin there, busy cleaning. He also found a scroll on the desk, written in the careful and legible hand of his manservant.

"Another speech, Merlin? What is it this time?"

"The Annual Opening of the Judiciary Assembly," Merlin informed, without looking up. Arthur turned to look at him in surprise. He saw a young, lean man, busy in his work of sweeping the floor, carefully looking for dust in all corners. Then Arthur looked back at the text of the scroll that began: "My Eminent Lords of the Royal Court, Most Honoured Judiciary Assembly, Excellent Peers of Camelot Law and Invaluable Partners..."

And all of a sudden, Arthur failed to make a connection between the manservant and his accomplishments. And, of course, he knew. He had known for a long time. That Merlin's talents were infinitely wasted on a job as cleaner, washer, stable-boy etc. Yet, he could not bring himself to second him. Arthur realised full well, that it would mean losing the almost constant company of his best friend.

He simply couldn't bear that. And of course, he could never admit it either.

Arthur put down the scroll. "Needs a polish. Have it done by morning."

"Yes, Sire," Merlin grinned, not fooled for a moment. As usual, he wouldn't alter a word, and as usual, Arthur would never notice. After many years as Arthur's manservant, the warlock understood the dynamics between upstairs and downstairs and had realised, long ago, that the relationship was not about keeping the downstairs down, but rather keeping the upstairs up.

"Incidentally," Arthur said as casually as possible, "what do you think Morgana is up to?"

"She's not my sister," Merlin evaded and instantly regretted his use of family designation when he saw Arthur grimace.

"I thought I knew her, Merlin. But the Morgana I knew would never harm anyone."

"She probably ceased to be Morgana long ago," Merlin agreed.

"All because of magic," Arthur murmured.

"I don't agree on that," Merlin spurted out before thinking. He could have bit off his tongue. Now was really not the time to challenge the king on his prejudice about magic. The silence his remark had invoked almost burned the skin on his nape, so he kept his head down and swept on in more sense than one: "Look at Gaius, for instance. He once had magic, but he never turned evil. And … Balinor was willing to help us even after he had been persecuted."

When Arthur replied, his voice, thank god, was calm if a little annoyed.

"But what about Morgause? Nimuë? Dragoon, who killed my father? Are you saying they were not evil?"

_Careful, Merlin!_ The sorcerer cautioned himself. He finally let the broom be broom and turned to face his king.

"I am sure there are plenty of sorcerers who turn bad, but evidently some do not. So perhaps something else happened in their lives to turn them evil – why else would there be a difference?"

Arthur growled a bit at his reasoning, but did not pursue the matter and Merlin felt he could relax.

And maybe. Just maybe, he had planted a seed.

x

_**More? Let me know if you want me to continue this story. :)**_


	5. Following Trails

**Disclaimer's: **All hail to the BBC!

**A/N: **Thank you so much for all your kind reviews. They are the fuel of this story. :-D If you have a point of criticism, I'd also love to hear it. I'm here to learn (well, - and to have fun).

**Chapter 4**

**Following Trails**

Fortunately, Merlin managed to get some sleep before he returned to Kilgharrah the following night. His appearing and disappearing spells were steadily getting more confident and precise, and his energy was slowly returning to its normal level, so all in all it was a stronger Merlin that came to the dragon's lair that night.

His big friend was healing faster and faster, now that he had the strength to apply some of his own considerable magic. The wounds had closed, and his eyes looked clear and considerably more alive than the last time Merlin had been there. They both estimated that he could start flying again within a few days.

The Great Dragon looked at Merlin while the young warlock was reinforcing the blood spell, his warm hand hovering over the largest of the scars. Then he asked him softly: "Have you heard anything about Aithusa?"

Merlin shook his head. "No news of any dragon sightings," he said and let his hand fall with a sigh, "believe me – we would have heard about it."

"There is a rumour, though, that Morgana is looking for Emrys," he added.

Kilgharrah started. "What do you mean?"

Merlin raised his head and met the dragon's ancient glance. "I mean that people on the streets and in the taverns are saying that she is actively looking for Emrys now. Ostensibly to form an allegiance with me."

Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes. "Be careful, young warlock."

Merlin sent him a smirk. "Don't worry. The chance of Morgana actually wishing for us to engage in an allegiance is equal to that of Gwaine never touching mead again."

The dragon chuckled, relieved that Merlin now was fully aware and convinced of the witch's dark mind. "I tend to agree. How, do you suppose, did a rumour like that start?"

Merlin shrugged. "There are various theories. Some believe it to be the result of the furtive imagination of simple farmers ..."

Kilgharrah cocked his head, knowing full well why that theory would be dead in the water even before it was formed.

"... but of course," Merlin continued, "_**being **_the named sorcerer in question, I know better. Since the Druids would never mention my Druidic name to anyone, the name could only have come from Morgana. Ergo, she started the rumour ..."

" … ergo she has put together a plan of mischief," Merlin finished.

"She must mean to use Bane in her future plan," Kilgharrah hissed. Merlin nodded. "Obviously. Perhaps attacking us while we're busy looking for Emrys or something equally sneaky."

Then he took a step back, clearly contemplating something.

"Do you believe I might be able to reach him through his birth bond? I am, after all, the dragonlord who brought him to life."

The dragon widened his eyes in alarm, his golden scales practically standing on end. "Do not attempt it, young warlock. If you fail in turning him over, he will still report your actions to Morgana."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "But what if I camouflaged it? I could do that. Pretend that I am Balinor. He gave me his magic signature before he died."

"I would still not recommend it, young fool," Kilgharrah emphasised, "If your own signature is felt through the contact, your position could be lost. If you succeed in masking it, Bane and Morgana will still know that Balinor or some other form of dragonlord is still alive and she _**will**_ do everything to find the said dragonlord and kill him."

A slow smile spread over Merlin's features. "But that would give her something to do, eh?"

His huge lizard friend looked at him in frustration and recognised the expression of steel in those ocean blue eyes. "You are unyielding in this matter?"

Merlin gave one nod. "I must attempt it. If there is just the slightest chance of winning Aithusa back ..." Merlin didn't finish the sentence. Secretly, he was still suffering from a case of bad conscience towards Morgana. Had he revealed to her the nature of his powers, she might not have felt so alone – and she might not have become so bitter and irretrievably evil. He would not let that happen to Aithusa; he would not leave him to darkness.

"You risk a great deal, young friend, but I will do mine to reduce that risk. Close your eyes."

Merlin closed his eyes obediently and shortly after felt a very warm breeze sail through his mind and body. Ancient magic flowed through him, into his limbs and all the way to the capillaries and filled his very soul. The warlock felt his own significant power respond to it, embrace it and make it his own. When he finally opened his eyes, they shone amber gold. "Thank you," he said, then closed his eyes again and wordlessly started the complicated spell that would mask his identity towards other magical beings. When finished, he sent his mind out on a tentative flight to let his dragonlord self reach out towards his kin.

However, what Merlin found was a complete surprise.

x

Aderyn was following the trail that Arthur and Balinor had taken so many years ago. She had to move very slowly as she only had her empathic sense of the residual feeling of him to guide her. She had visited the tavern where Arthur had spent the night, but though the innkeeper well remembered the young, blonde man that was looking for "a man named Balinor", he knew nothing of the spot where Balinor fell, which is why she was now inching her way down the forest path. The closer she got, the more distinct the feeling became; Balinor's past was coming towards her gradually in waves, each wave strengthening the next; the ground virtually sizzled with history. Eventually she camped, making sure she was not seen and that her fire was thoroughly extinguished and not producing a tell-tale column of smoke before she lay down to sleep. Breathing a sigh, she found it exceedingly difficult to relax, and not just because of the roots that were making the forest floor a very uneven mattress to rest on. Thoughts kept bouncing off her mind's walls and only by a particularly disciplined effort of hers did she manage to finally drift off to the country of blessed oblivion.

In the middle of the night, however, she woke up suddenly and jumped to her feet, all her senses on alert. Then an emotion that was not hers washed through her and overwhelmed her soul by the sheer power and familiarity of it. She fell to her knees, moaning softly.

_**Balinor!**_

It was him! She would know his signature anywhere!

_He's alive!_

Aderyn gasped in short little huffs as the familiar and beloved signature rushed through her like a tidal wave. The signature appeared to be searching ... For her? Aderyn wasn't quite sure, but reached out as loud and clear as she could. _I am here, Balinor! I have come. Please! Lead me to you!_

And then with the snap of a finger, he was gone. And the seer was left sitting on the damp forest floor, alone and bereft, utterly confused, profoundly disappointed and filled with tear wrecking tristesse. _What happened? Why did he disappear? He seemed almost frightened. Why should he be frightened of me? Is he under duress?_

Still more questions than answers. Aderyn tried very hard to get a grip. However, the emotional impact of the experience had left her completely spent, open and vulnerable and her tears falling down her cheeks.

He had felt so near …

x

With a hiss, Merlin retracted, wrapping up his dragonlord signature as quickly and safely as he could. Then he dived into himself and dug his way back through one unspoken spell after the other. He found Kilgharrah staring at him expectantly when he opened his eyes. It took him a few seconds to regain his bearings and then he gasped and blinked with such a sudden intensity that he felt he must have held his breath during the entire spell.

"Are you all right?" Kilgharrah asked softly, displaying a hint of concern.

"Yes," huffed Merlin, "but … but, I didn't reach Aithusa."

The dragon lifted his left eyebrow and cocked his head, which made him look very much like a puzzled bird.

Answering the mute question, Merlin continued: "I .. somehow stumbled upon someone else. Someone who thought I was Balinor and who had come for me – for Balinor, rather."

"That is very odd," Kilgharrah mumbled, "Balinor has been dead for years. Who would be looking for him now?"

"And who would know his signature?" Merlin added, his face quite serious.

_Who, indeed_, the dragon thought, an old memory stirring in him, too fuzzy to be identified.

Merlin decided, wisely, not to challenge fate and try again, and many leagues from there, a female seer lay wide awake until morning, unable to sleep a wink, compliments to the unnerving experience she had had. By the very first morning light, she quickly got up and wrapped up her gear, leaving her interim camp as silently and efficiently as she could. Then she started walking, heading for a point that, according to her senses, reeked of Balinor.

When she reached it a couple of hours later, her confusion grew. She had expected to become wiser on the dragonlord's fate, but instead her presence there merely added to the conundrum. Stooping, she placed her palms on the ground and closed her eyes. Then she breathed in deeply, spreading out her senses to obtain any impression of Balinor that he might have left. The preliminary result was, as such, clear: She got the distinct impression of _**death**_.

Somebody died here. That much was certain. Was it Balinor? Impossible. _I just felt him last night_.

Yet she most definitely got a specific feeling of death and a distant sense of Balinor. It did not bode well for her hope of finding him alive.

True to her nature and her habit in the face of despair, Aderyn straightened her back. For the umpteenth time since she started her voyage, she had to dig deep within her inner strength and gather whatever energy and hope she had left. There was only one way to know about Balinor for certain, and she had already drawn this conclusion after speaking with the Druids.

She would have to get the truth from King Arthur.

x

When Merlin found Arthur standing by his window, staring through it with a wistful glance in his eyes, the warlock knew that Gwen had been wise in seeking his help and advice. Left to his own devices, the King would, for sure, join his knights on the quest to find Emrys. Merlin had seen that gaze before. Inactivity and patience while his knights were out on a mission were not Arthur's strong points. The Queen knew this and had come to Merlin early in the morning, persuading him to rise early and catch Arthur before he did something stupid – like riding after them.

"Arthur, I was thinking..." Merlin said, tentatively. The King's face split in a grin, momentarily diverted. "Don't hurt yourself, Merlin. Stick to what you do best."

"Which is what?" Merlin asked pointedly, taking the bait willingly and preparing himself for yet another jibe.

"Nothing," Arthur grinned broadly at him. The royal prat's bottomless mirth almost made Merlin change his mind. Why not let him dart out of the chamber and follow his knights to his heart's content, leaving Merlin in peeeaaace. Then maybe he could get some real work done.

But of course; this was just the thing that Morgana would be waiting for.

"Be that as it may," Merlin said patiently, "the knights you sent out are covering the taverns of the outskirts, but what if I went to a couple of local taverns – incognito?"

"Now is not the time to get hammered, Merlin," Arthur said, returning his gaze to the window. Merlin bit his lip. Sometimes this royal … backside could be so ….

"No, not to drink, thank you very much – to investigate!"

Arthur turned his head slowly, his eyes conveying the message clearly enough without words.

"Don't look at me like that. I have conducted investigations before," Merlin claimed.

"Yeah?" Arthur finally abandoned the infamous window, rested his hands on his hips and sporting a big grin, asked: "tell me, Merlin, when was this? When exactly did you grow a brain?"

"Oh, _ha, ha_," Merlin said sarcastically, stressing each _ha_, "when I was looking for Gwaine, for instance – you know – the entire business with the _Fischer King_."

Arthur quickly waved a finger in front of his manservant. "That never happened!" he said adamantly, "remember?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to," Merlin murmured, jerking his head back to avoid the over-eager finger. The King bestowed a sick smile on him. "Funny," he said, clearly not thinking so, "So funny. Why don't you think of some more jokes while you muck out my stables?"

"**What?**" Merlin exclaimed, appalled.

"Oh – **after** you visit the local taverns, of course. Discreetly, Merlin. **Very **discreetly!"

The warlock's miffed expression quickly changed to one of delight.

Well, good. While Merlin did this for him, he would, hopefully, remain here safely in the arms of the woman he loved, staying out of trouble. Merlin exchanged a conspiratorial wink with Gwen on his way down the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. Being _**two **_to look after the prat had made his life considerably easier..

_The Rising Sun _was, as always, full of people and sporting a jolly ambience. Merlin felt safe here, despite the various times he had had to bail out Gwaine and pay for whatever mischief Gaius the Goblin had been up to. Beth, the proprietor's niece quickly came over to service him flashing him a toothless smile. Beth had lost all her teeth at the age of 12, but it had never stopped her smiling at people. As she said in stark irony, having no teeth meant having no fear of anybody ever knocking them out.

"Evening, Beth," Merlin beamed at her. The freckled face beamed back at him. "So where 'ave you been in my life, Merlin-luv. We 'ardly see you."

"Been busy, Beth. Keeping the kingdom free of sorcerers takes hard work, you know."

The toothless smile nodded as she filled his tankard with cider. "I 'ear you, mate. Nough to be done in that area, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I don't mind, Beth. It's a good thing that Morgana seems to be the only one we need to worry about."

Beth's face, including the smile, immediately fell. It was almost comical. Merlin then instantly knew. The news of Morgana's coming ally had reached the Camelot taverns.

The same night Merlin told the King and Queen that the rumour of Morgana and Emrys had indeed reached the Camelot taverns, but that the rumour was slightly different from the one Gwaine and Percival had picked up: Morgana was looking for a sorcerer by the name of Emrys, not to merge with him, but to kill him.

Arthur's eyebrows almost disappeared behind his bangs. "Kill him? Whatever for? Is she afraid of the competition?" He laughed shortly at his own wit, while Gwen applied her characteristic look of forgiveness and Merlin groaned and rolled his eyeballs.

"Apparently this Emrys is seeking to protect Camelot, and our Morgana doesn't like that one bit," Merlin said, being more truthful than the actual rumour.

In fact, the rumour had been pretty much what Gwaine and Percival had heard, except wildly exaggerated. Beth had told him that Morgana was seeking an alliance with Emrys in order to take over the whole world.

When Merlin had heard how the rumour had grown out of proportions, he had made a quick decision: That it should grow to serve **his** purpose – and not Morgana's. If the King could be convinced that this new sorcerer in town was a protector rather than an aggressor, Merlin might kill two birds with one stone: making sure that Arthur did not leave Camelot and softening the same Arthur towards the concept of magic. Merlin almost felt good about himself.

That is … right up until the moment when the royal arse said: "Nah! Impossible. Just goes to show how vividly far out these rumours tend to become."

_Prat!_

x

Two days later, Aderyn had reached the border between Mercia and Camelot. The days were gradually getting warmer and even the rain seemed to ease up a bit to the seer's great relief. The tall woman breathed in the frisky air, filling her lungs with the lovely scent of spring flowers and fir trees. She still had some distance to cover, but at least she was in the kingdom now. In Camelot. The realisation made her pause while shivers ran down her spine. The last time she had been in Camelot, Balinor had been on his way straight into a trap. The calming effect the mouthful of cool air had had on her state of mind was now completely reversed at the thought of Uther's treachery.

"All ye gods in heaven," she murmured, "grant me revenge over Uther's son if he be the cause of Balinor's death."

"Revenge is an unhealthy pastime in this country," a drawling voice nearby her said. Aderyn turned on her heel. She should have heard something – or at least seen it in her mind. On the other hand, she knew of only one person who could sneak up on her like that, which meant she hadn't had a chance to begin with.

She was looking straight into the unblinking eyes of that same person.

"_Alator_," Aderyn whispered.

The shivers never left her spine.

x

_**Sorry for this cliffie – hee, hee. ;P**_


	6. Snatched!

**Disclaimers: **_The Adventures of Merlin _belongs to the BBC, no infringement intended.

**A/N: **_Morgan le Fay _is one of Morgana's aliases, used throughout the various stories of the Arthurian Legend. My use of it in this story is an attempt to tie the ends of the TV-legend together. _Fay_ derives from French _fée_ (fairy) as Morgana, in some variations, is a supernatural being.

Correction of an error in earlier chapters: Aderyn's age is 42 – not 32 as I wrote a some point. It was merely my algebra that was off. ;)

And now is the time for you to remember that the name _Aderyn _means _bird _in Gaelic. And, yes, there's a point to that. Btw – wonderful reviews! Thank you!

**Chapter 5**

**Snatched!**

Aderyn had hoped she would never look into those cold dark grey eyes again, but now that she was, she would have to think fast, get out of her frozen state and react accordingly.

Alator appeared a good deal more relaxed than she did and simply said in his thick accent:

"Hello, Aderyn. It's been a long time."

She nodded curtly, "It has," she agreed.

The short, well-muscled priest of the Old Religion tightened his grip on his staff and gathered his long robe and cloak round him. "Walk with me."

Extremely wary of him, yet also a bit puzzled as to his changed demeanour, Aderyn followed his suggestion and they left the path and entered a meadow.

"You have been gone for almost 27 years, Aderyn. From the lilt of your newly acquired accent, it is clear where you have been. What brings you back?"

The seer hesitated. Telling Alator anything was risky. Yet, telling him absolutely nothing could be fatal. If the Druid felt there was information to be gained, he would go to unpleasant extremes to get it, and silence would opt him to believe there was vital information to extract. So Aderyn chose a compromise.

"I am trying to find out what happened to Balinor."

"As you mentioned yourself: he is dead," Alator said.

Dear Alator! Never the sensitive sort. Aderyn had heard this piece of news so often that one would think she'd be used to it by now. Yet still, she felt the familiar lump in her throat when she heard Alator's words. She carefully weighed her answer. The important thing here was to avoid lying; Alator could smell a lie from a distance of several miles.

"So I have heard. But I want to be sure."

Alator turned his head to look at her, and already it felt like he was digging his way into her mind.

"Why should you not believe it if it was told to you?"

_Shit! Shit, shit_! This man caught just about everything. She wanted to shrug and casually say that 'he knew how a rumour tended to be false', but he would spot the lie immediately. Again, she opted for the truth, verbalised in general terms.

"It feels wrong, Alator."

The Druid stopped, leaned on his staff and looked at her with great care.

"What exactly have you felt, Aderyn?"

_Shit, shit, shit, double shit_! He was cornering her. She could no longer offer him the diplomatic responses.

"That is not really any of your concern," she said, her voice carefully balanced between firmness and respect.

"I believe it is," he said, completely unimpressed.

_Don't do this_, she thought frantically, _don't force me to threaten you! Don't make me you!_

Aderyn tried one last manoeuvre: the roundabout. She locked her eyes with his, and said pleasantly:

"Perhaps if you told me exactly how he died, Alator, it would put my mind at ease and I would stop searching for him."

The roundabout worked! For now, at least, Alator was forced to divert his eyes, knowing full well what hers could do to him.

"I tell you what I know of his death and you tell me where you are really going and why."

Oh, dear! He had called her bluff! And now there was really only one path open to her if she did not want to end up on his slab, having her mind ravaged for truths and information.

Not giving her any time to make up her mind, Alator suddenly reached out for her, using his staff as protection, but years of honing her skill had made Aderyn uncannily fast. She managed to grab his wrist first and lock eyes with him, a move that gave her the edge.

For the first time ever, she saw fear in this cold man's eyes. And after a moment of silence and without any movement at all from either parties, she said, quite firmly:

"What will it be, Alator? We part ways like we never met, or I show you your future, right here and now."

The Druid looked at the woman in surprise. She had grown! Oh, yes, she had grown beyond any measure he knew. He was no slouch himself, capable of extracting any memory a person had, but right now he was looking into a sea of pure art in the ability to map the future. Aderyn had learned how to read a person's future at will and instantly. Alator couldn't suppress a shiver.

She felt him acquiesce without a sound and slowly, ever so slowly she let go of his wrist, but not of his eyes.

The two duellists then stepped back from each other and Aderyn could eventually turn and leave the place and a shaken Alator behind her. Until the moment when she was almost back on track and his voice rang out towards her.

"Aderyn, I appeal to your good nature that I know you have. If you encounter Emrys, leave him alone. I beg of you."

She turned round, her face the picture of surprise.

"What?"

"I am no longer as you remember me," he said, his voice now laced with emotion, "I have studied the prophecies and know that they are in process. Disturbing the situation now could be fatal. Please. Leave Emrys alone. Do not disclose him."

And then he turned and left the meadow.

x

The wind was sharp and the waves eager to spurt onto the stony beach, making the rocks slippery and foamy. As she took in the characteristic ocean smell, Morgana longed for the day when she and her kind could be free and in the open. She and Bane would no longer have to remain hidden in caverns by the sea or on icy cold summits. She gathered her torn, black robe round her and stepped closer to her secret weapon. Bane's glintingly white scales flashed at her in the darkness of the lair. The dragon's beautiful skin was quite the disadvantage during night and impossible to hide when the sun was out. Thus, stealth was out of the question in the conquest of Camelot; it had to be a direct attack. Morgana smiled while she rubbed the creature between his eyes. Her pet would ensure her victory. She would be known as the sorceress riding the white dragon - like a mighty empress with wings. The Pendragon laughed softly, still stroking the dragon. A sorceress with boundless powers and wings. Beautiful and terrifying to look at. Like a fairy. Pressing her lips against Bane's scales, she laughingly made a decision. When she attacked Camelot, it would not be as Morgana. Morgana was dead! Slain by her deceitful family. She was now _**Morgan le Fay **_– the all-powerful sorceress that would reclaim her throne, reinstate magic and have her revenge on the Pendragon.

Bane rustled softly underneath her hand. She would have to work on keeping his loyalty. Lately, it was as if he had been distracted, and she could not have that. Tonight she would renew her enchantments over him, even if it did deplete her reserves of power. It just meant that she would have to wait a couple of days before her power had healed itself.

Unbeknownst of Morgana, the beast below stirred. It felt the touch of its mistress, but another part of it had felt the sensation of something long ago. Something that had called _him_, had defined _him_.

Something ...

x

The travelling seer stood unmoving for a while, the departing words of Alator having left a lasting impression on her.

The formerly arrogant Priest of the Old Religion _**begging **_her to leave Emrys alone? Aderyn was somewhat shocked. His words on Emrys as such had told her nothing new. She, too, knew that this fabled sorcerer would one day be instrumental to uniting Albion and including, to her regret, Alba eventually. She understood that he was an immensely powerful being with magical abilities to surpass any other magician in history. So far, so good.

But then, why would such a man need protection? What was this delicate balance that Alator appeared scared out of his wits might be disturbed? In this vision of hers that had prompted her voyage in the first place she had seen Emrys side by side with Balinor. This was the only interest she had in him: as a means to finding the dragonlord. Her visions were never wrong, he was the key, there was no doubt about it.

However, why was it that everybody who talked about him was so keen on keeping her from him? What harm could she possibly bring on to such a magnificent sorcerer?

Aderyn shook her head. She understood less and less.

Eventually, she put it out of her mind and shifted her focus to the market she was approaching. Her mouth began to water. She had been travelling on flat bread, dried meat and pickled fruit and was looking forward to eating fresh food again. Her chest heaving with a deep sigh of content, she went straight to the first outdoor eating-place she saw and sat down heavily. It wasn't until she had downed several cups of water and some milk that she noticed the odd ambience of the place.

It was as if everybody was very eager to hoard. Huge amounts of food and necessities were bought at almost each and every stall and the merchants' facial expressions varied between being panicky and jubilant.

_People are getting ready to flee_, Aderyn concluded, _why?_

Then she noticed three men in chain mail, walking from stall to stall, talking to the merchants.

_What? Is the army organising an evacuation? What the heck is going on?_

At that moment, the young serving lad leaned in on her and said in a low voice:

"As much as we luv 'aving customers, missus, you should probably drink up and get going with the others."

Both Aderyn's eyebrows crawled up her brow. "Why?" she asked sincerely.

The lad looked at her, rolling his eyes, clearly believing her to be a complete idiot.

"Cuz of the sorcerers, i'n it?"

"What sorcerers?"

"Oy, where 'ave you been, missus? Emrys and Morgana, of course! They are about to attack Camelot."

The seer's eyes widened three times their normal size.

"They _**WHAT**_?" she cried, "but that's _**impossible**_!"

Oh, no. She had been so careful all along, and then she goofed it in the end. Crying out loud for all to hear like a novice in stealth. And for what? For a silly rumour that probably wasn't true anyway. She could kick herself. The result was predictable. One second after her stupid, stupid exclamation, three shiny knights were standing right behind her stool.

"Is it, now?" one of them said, "that's interesting."

x

Morgana had never dreamed that her rumour scheme would work so well. Selected minions that were scouting for her in Camelot had reported a certain increased emigration activity. Panicking people were leaving the kingdom in a hysterical frenzy, claiming that two sorcerers were about to invade. And all on account of a rumour. Morgana almost shook with delight. It was time! The emigration could only mean that Arthur was having serious domestic problems which left him ripe for the taking. Today was _**it**_. Today, late in the afternoon, she would strike, riding high up on her sharp toothed pegasus. Having lived in the castle, she knew its procedures to a tee. Late in the afternoon, they would be busy preparing for the coming darkness, the shifts would be on route and the daylight guards eager to leave. On top of the people's panic, it would be the perfect moment to strike.

_Morgan le Fay _put both her slim hands on the smooth scales of Bane. She was now trembling all over in anticipation and transferred the intense feeling to her pet.

_Awaken, awaken, Bane! Your hour of glory has come! Listen to my voice and heed my blood lust. Vengeance must be mine and Uther's son must pay for my misery!_

And underneath her hands, the ferocious dragon's eyes started glinting with the colour red.

x

Quite possibly, the experienced seer could easily have escaped the three Camelot knights. After all, the rope they tied her with would be burnt to a crisp and while she was controlling one with his future, she could have loosened the soil underneath the feet of the two others. However, merely one minute after her capture, she realised that these three stern-looking gents were actually her free ticket to Camelot Castle. _**They were taking her to see King Arthur**_. It couldn't have worked out better for her.

Now, that she was travelling on horseback, sitting tightly behind a man with dark skin and beautiful eyes, she reached her final destination so much faster. She felt her heart skip a beat. She was so close! The waiting was finally over. She would meet the man that knew everything about Balinor's supposed death.

"We found her at the market in Brynmawr," Elyan reported to Arthur, "she appeared extremely agitated when a serving lad told her that Emrys and Morgana were about to attack Camelot."

"I would be too," Merlin murmured, his otherwise smooth brow furrowed. He was standing right next to the King on his right side in the conference room.

"The idiot has a point," Arthur said, "why did you bring her, Elyan?"

Percival chimed in, "It wasn't as much as what she said, Sire. It was the way she said it. Like she had expected something else. Like she **knew** that particularly statement couldn't be true."

"Indeed?" Arthur turned his head and and his eyes found Merlin's, and he remembered his manservant's words. _**The saying now goes that this Emrys is out to protect Camelot, not attack it**_.

"Do you want interrogate her?" came the typically straightforward question from Gwaine.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I do. It might be useful to find out what she knows. But later. Let her stew in the dungeon a bit."

The knights nodded. They had already parked her there to her loud objections. For some reason she appeared annoyed that she wasn't brought before the King immediately.

Merlin quickly left the conference room as quickly and soundlessly as he could while the King was seeking council with his wife. In matters of people skills, the King had come to depend on his queen more and more, knowing full well that her skills were superior in this field.

Of all she had endured during her long voyage home, this, Aderyn thought, was probably the most annoying and frustrating. To have come this far and have the further progress delayed by wasting time in the less than charming dungeon? Utterly annoying. After mumbling some unintelligible curses to a very nondescript and uncaring and, not to mention, unresponsive stone wall, Aderyn decided she had vented sufficiently and drew a deep breath to cleanse her mind and lungs. … And wished she hadn't. The place reeked of faeces and urine. Hogs had cleaner living quarters, she thought wryly.

Putting the smell aside, the seer turned her attention towards the cell's lock, wrapped her senses round the mechanism and tentatively felt the weight of it in her mind. Heavy! Extremely so! No wonder, Uther had succeeded in capturing and incarcerating so many sorcerers. By far most of the sorcerers had very poor levitation skills and it needed a powerful sorcerer to move this massive bolt in the tight sliding lock mechanism. Not to mention getting it unlocked first would require an expert destruction spell. No, that wouldn't be her game either. Had she the need for breaking out of there, she would work on her gaoler instead.

Aderyn was so enwrapped in her musings that she almost missed the young man approaching her cell. She started, not at his presence, but at the fact that he had appeared so suddenly and silently.

Merlin saw the woman before she saw him; a tall, almost black-haired woman. Her long hair was still untouched by frost though the fine lines round her mouth and at the corners of her dark, deeply set eyes revealed a maturity of age. Her nose was of a sightly aquiline shape, her handsome face long and her mouth firm and sensitive at the same time. The woman was wearing sensible and well worn leather travelling clothes, trousers like a man and a red neckerchief round her long, surprisingly smooth neck.

Then she saw him and stiffened. Their eyes met.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice steady and low.

"Aderyn," she willingly contributed. She smiled at him, albeit a little stiffly. "Who are you?"

"Merlin," he said, just as willingly. Her smile broke into a grin.

"Well, how about that. Two birds, one in a cage, chatting with each other. Why are you here, Merlin?"

"To see you," he admitted. She shrugged, resisting the urge to quote the old phrase, _curiosity killed the cat_, or in this case, _the bird_.

"What do you do round here, Merlin?" She watched his eyes carefully. If he said that he was a servant, she would know that he was lying. The boy virtually breathed intelligence and well-bred stance, belied by his clothing.

"I am a servant."

Bull's eye! He was probably there to check her out and report back to the King before interrogation.

_She is probing me_, Merlin thought, _very thoroughly and discreetly. This is no ordinary traveller_.

He stepped closer and leaned over, keen on reading her eyes when he asked the pivotal question.

"Are you a sorceress?"

She hadn't expected that question; that much was certain.

"No!" she said firmly. "Why would you think that?"

"People who end up in the dungeons usually are," the boy said logically.

"That makes it a one-sided law, but not necessarily me a sorceress," she stated drily.

"Then why are you in here?"

"You have to ask the fine gents that brought me here. I was just minding my own business."

Merlin suddenly started and retracted, obviously alerted by a sound and sure enough; few minutes later, her three charming knights in their shiny armour entered. The boy had already vanished which she found an interesting detail. Perhaps he had been there on his own accord after all. Whatever his business or intent, one thing was certain.

There had been more to that young man than met the eye. Even her eye.

x

_**So what do you think? Let me know, thank you. :-D**_


	7. Dragon vs Dragon

**Disclaimers: **Belongs to the BBC.

**A/C: **- is this time in the bottom of the page to avoid spoilers. ;) First, let me thank you all for your kind attention to this story, and I am **so** glad you enjoy it.

**Chapter 6**

**Dragon vs. Dragon**

This was her big moment. The moment she stood eye to eye with the one who knew everything about Balinor's reported death, the one person who had been there. Her pivotal moment.

Or it should be.

Instead, she now stood in front of a young man with fair hair and soft skin, flanked by his "servant", the boy Merlin, and a young devoted wife, the Queen. And his eyes conveyed a somewhat strained interest, a curious anger, a certain amount of fear and … sorrow.

Aderyn frowned, and found herself to be confused. None of this gave her the feeling she had expected.

The place was intimidating enough; the King had chosen to conduct the interrogation in the throne hall, no doubt to take advantage of the nobility and impressiveness of the place. Yet she never felt it in her gut and it thus did not have the intended effect.

"Do you know why you are here?" the King asked. His voice was surprisingly gentle, matching his young, crystal blue eyes. Where were Uther's iron fists? His cold and hard blue eyes and the unyielding glance? And then there was his alleged servant whose eyes she could not look away from. Dark, blue and with an echo of something she knew.

"No," was her simple answer.

"My people are fleeing the country because of a rumour. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes," she admitted, "the serving boy at the market told me. Two sorcerers are attacking Camelot."

Her voice was calm, albeit intense and a little anxious, conveying the message that she would very much like to join their flight. So far, she seemed entirely normal and innocent and her reactions natural and without deceit, but Arthur knew sorcerers well. They were masters of deception.

"My knights report that you were very surprised to hear this news."

"Of course, I was!"

The King paused. Then he resumed, "Tell me what you know of the sorcerer Emrys."

She looked at him in sincere surprise. The King too? What was this fanatic fascination with Emrys?

"Absolutely nothing," she said, lying through her teeth.

"I believe you do."

King Arthur was following the classic interrogation approach, Aderyn realised, so if it'd be, it'd be now. Making sure her tone of voice was balanced perfectly between righteous anger and a touch of personal interest, she asked the question she had longed to ask since the beginning of her journey:

"You clearly wish to know why I am here, Sire. I will tell you. I don't care one bit about Emrys or any other sorcerer at all. I care about one person and one person only: Where is Balinor?"

"**Balinor**?" the King displayed genuine amazement, yet it was the facial expression of his _manservant_ that drew Aderyn's sudden attention: His mouth showed shock and his eyes hooded grief. His features were quivering so much that she suspected that he was on the verge of losing his composure.

"Balinor, the dragonlord? He is long dead."

The King's spontaneous exclamation made her head whip round to look at him again and his words caused an eruption of emotion she could not hold back, perhaps partly influenced by Merlin's similar reaction.

"You **lie**! He is **not**! I feel, I sense him in this very room! Why are you keeping him from me?"

Desperation and boundless grief filled her soul and would not be harnessed. Tears flowed down her cheeks, unhindered, and the King looked at her, completely bewildered as he half rose from his throne.

"I am sorry, but he is dead. I saw him die … !"

The royal suddenly stopped, realising that he had just blurted out a piece of information that might have been wiser to keep to himself. His prisoner had ceased her sobbing eerily abruptly and was now looking at him with dark eyes.

"Did you, now," she finally said, her voice low and menacingly deep, "do tell me about it."

"You know enough," Arthur said firmly, though clearly rattled by the whole situation.

"Then let your _servant _speak," Aderyn pressed on, laying a sarcastic stress on the word _servant_. "Obviously, he was there with you. His evident grief and shock speak louder than words."

"Merlin?" Arthur said and turned his head to look at his manservant. And sure enough, there he stood, eyes brimming with tears, his mouth quivering and about to give way to a heart-rendering sob. _Quell it_, _quell it_, he told himself, but it was as if this woman had opened the door to his hidden feelings about his father and there was no stopping the emotional response.

"Merlin, you're excused," the King said firmly, trying to control a situation that was quickly spiralling out of control. But Merlin shook his head, refusing to leave, even if it did earn him a day in the stocks.

"_**Tell me what happened**_!" Aderyn cried.

"Merlin! **Leave**!"

"_**Tell **_me, Merlin!"

Arthur looked from a devastated Merlin to a desperate prisoner and heard himself ordering her to stop talking, which, of course, had no effect whatsoever. The present knights, unable to grasp what was going on, had put their hands on the hilt of their swords and were looking round them, prepared for the worst. The scene was chaotic at best. Then he felt his Guinevere lean in and whisper a few words of council in his hear and suddenly he heard himself say loudly:

"He was killed by Cenred's men!"

x

A sudden silence fell in the great hall, almost opting all the historical ornaments to lean in and straining to listen to the drama unfolding itself on the decorative tiles. The shadows somehow grew darker and the lights were flickering to stay alive as a wind was doing its best to put them out.

The King's outburst had muted everybody present and it wasn't until Aderyn, several seconds later, opened her mouth that the silence was finally broken.

"Why?" was her simple question. Merlin was heard fighting for his breath in the background.

Arthur looked at her, his face serious and deeply moved. He did not know what this woman was to Balinor, but his own grief at his father's death was mirrored in her haunted and drawn features.

"The Great Dragon had come loose," he said, a little hoarse, "and was attacking Camelot. We needed Balinor's help to harness the creature, so we – my servant and myself, as you correctly guessed – went to look for him beyond the border of Essetir. We found him the forest, hidden in a cave, and we persuaded him to come with us."

Arthur paused, before he continued. No to torture the woman, but because he needed to control his voice.

".. but we were, alas, attacked by Cenred's men on our way back."

The silence fell again. Aderyn had fallen on her knees.

"I am sorry," Arthur added, now almost whispering.

Their prisoner's whole demeanour was one of defeat. She shook her head again and again and then raised it, revealing a face so much in pain that it scared them.

"I believe you speak the truth, Sire. I believe you saw him die."

Then she rose to her feet and straightened. She cleared her voice, but it still sounded somewhat raspy when she said:

"I thank you for that and will give you, in return, what you asked for: the rumour I heard about the sorcerer Emrys."

King Arthur looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. Merlin, whose face was distorted in pain, gasped soundlessly. Aderyn continued.

"Through my travels, I have heard only one rumour: That according to the Druid prophecies, a sorcerer called Emrys shall rise and help the One and Future King unite Albion." Then Aderyn looked Arthur directly in the eye and added what every king would wish to hear: "The myth says that the Camelot King is the one to gather this country under one flag. Imagine, then, my surprise when the town folks claimed that this Emrys was about to attack Camelot in league with Morgana? I couldn't help reacting to this news."

Her confession was very cleverly constructed. Half truth and half fabrication and now it remained to be seen if this young – and apparently compassionate – king would swallow it whole.

Arthur nodded slowly. "This is what you have heard?"

She gave him a small nod, keenly feeling the eyes of the servant burning their way into her mind.

Then Arthur looked up and asked her one last question. One that she had hoped to avoid.

"I will let you go when you tell me this: What are you to Balinor?"

Aderyn never got the chance to eel her way out of that one. Camelot's alarm bells were suddenly ringing noisily, making everybody jump and the knights and their king explode into action. In the middle of it all, a guard came charging into the throne hall, yelling:

"The dragon" The dragon is attacking us!"

x

Through all the commotion and fear that rippled through the throne hall by those words, Arthur showed himself as the cool head of crisis as he quickly cut through the noise of the situation and went to the flustered guard, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Take a deep breath," he said, "what dragon?"

"A dragon, Sire. Any dragon!" the guard said, speaking between huffs.

"Where?"

The guard didn't say, but stuck out a shaking hand, indicating the balcony.

The assembly rushed to the balcony and threw open the tall, French doors and stormed out. Dusk had set in, evident from the dark blue sky that, heavy with grey clouds, threw the characteristic, long shadows over the citadel. And sure enough, right there by the outer walls flew a shiny white dragon, sharply drawn against the dark background and accentuated by the setting sun's dying rays. It was beautiful. And terrible. Then they saw it open its mighty jaws and the first flames leave its red mouth, and shivers of boundless fear ran down their spines.

"_**All hands, brace for fire attack**_," Arthur roared, back in his element. The throne hall exploded in activity, military commands being delivered with loud voices and the coming and going of knights with clanging armour, swords and shields. Merlin remained on the balcony, mesmerised by the sight of the white dragon with the fiery red eyes. His emotions were in uproar. This was the first time he had seen Aithusa after he had hatched it, and tears welled up in his eyes again. _No_, he thought, _what are you doing, Aithusa_? Seeing how the now very much grown hatchling was diving towards the outer wall of the citadel, scorching it, the warlock knew that he had to take action, or they were all lost. Yet, with his dragonlord powers out of the equation where this particular dragon was concerned, only one being had a chance of subduing Aithusa/Bane, and he might not even be strong enough yet.

Then suddenly he was ripped out of his contemplation as a familiar hand grabbed his shoulder. Arthur pointed at Aderyn, who was standing by the guard who had brought her.

"Keep an eye on her!" he barked angrily, "I'm not convinced of her lack of involvement in this affair."

Who could blame him? Not even Aderyn. After all, it was an extraordinary coincidence that this magical creature should appear right after they had apprehended a woman who demanded to know of a dragonlord's demise.

King Arthur then left the hall with his knights, sending his queen to safety escorted by two guards and left Merlin alone with the prisoner and her guard.

"I'll be back as quickly as I can," Arthur had assured him, "be careful. She might be shackled, but we don't know what she is capable of. If she's affiliated with Emrys and Morgana, I want them to know that she's right here with us and will perish with us if they roast the throne hall."

Merlin gave him a curt nod, satisfied that he would now have a chance to talk to their enigmatic prisoner alone. He listened to the vanishing steps of the King and his knights and then turned to Aderyn.

The seer was the very picture of bafflement. She kept staring out through the balcony doors, taking in the stunning white shape that launched one attack after the other on the citadel.

"Who is that dragon?" she asked, never taking her eyes off the creature.

Merlin curbed his surprise. She sounded every bit as shocked as the others.

"I thought _you_ might know."

"Me?" she glared at him.

"After all," the warlock pointed out, "he came with you."

She didn't take the bait, she just shook her head gently.

"I have to admit," she said, "that is one helluva coincidence. And not one I believe in."

"Nor do I," Merlin said sharply. She finally turned her head to look at the young man, and her glance almost took his breath away. Those eyes. He knew them.

"Merlin, I am not a dragonlord. I could not make this creature do my bidding even if I tried. I think we're both being played by the witch, Morgana."

"Not by Emrys?"

She shook her head, never letting go of his eyes.

"In my opinion, no."

There it was again. She seemed so sincere, but he was also sure that she was playing some sort of game. Frustrated he took one step towards her.

"Who **are **you?"

"Who are **you**? You're certainly not a servant."

Their verbal ping pong was interrupted by frightened screams of terror and pain and the sudden stench of roasted and burnt flesh filled the hall. Merlin winced, and Aderyn's murmur voiced his thoughts.

"This will end badly if somebody doesn't do anything," she whispered, real fear creeping into her voice.

Without thinking and on pure instinct, Merlin reached out to Aithusa with his mind. If he could confuse or appease the aggressive dragon, Kilgharrah might be able to help, despite his reconvalescence. The link to the natal bond was sudden and powerful, laced with the authority of a dragonlord, but in his own signature. The previous concept of keeping the contact covert no longer made any sense.

And the effect was stunning. On two fronts. Aithusa stopped mid-air, clearly confused and unsettled and behind Merlin came a small gasp followed by a deep throated groan. Merlin spun round and found Aderyn on her knees, looking at him with conflicting emotions reflected in her eyes. The guard stood next to her, obviously not understanding what was going on and uncertain how to react to this new development. Aderyn narrowed her eyes and whispered: "You … you're a dragonlord."

Not skipping a beat, Merlin quickly turned to look at the guard and commanded _sleep!_. The man instantly tumbled over and fell to the floor where he began snoring loudly.

Knowing full well that the cat definitely was out of the box, the warlock stepped forward and cried on the top of his lungs:

"**Oo, Drakon, a male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"**

Then there was silence for a moment and finally Aderyn said, her voice twitching with emotion. "You're calling Kilgharrah."

"Yes," Merlin simply answered.

"Why can you not master the white one?"

"He has been broken by Morgana's black magic," the young dragonlord said grimly. "He answers to her now."

Then Merlin returned to the balcony, attempting to re-establish the link to Aithusa. Part of him pondered at Aderyn's role in all this, her obvious recognition of his status as a dragonlord and her knowledge of Kilgharrah's name, but now was not the moment for long confessions.

Behind him Aderyn was trying very hard to understand the puzzle before her. It was the young man she had felt in the forest of Essetir. She was certain of it. He had been present when Balinor had died and somehow obtained his signature. The same young man she had just seen putting the guard to sleep by a single glance and word. This took power. A dragonlord/sorcerer at King Arthur's court? Outlandish!

Then she stopped her musings as another powerful feeling rushed through her body. The boy was inwardly reciting the details of a spell that she never thought a human being would have the skill to use. She looked at Merlin, who was keeping his eyes shut, and at a large golden reptile that was approaching his white kin. Kilgharrah; and he was covered in scars.

"You … you're reciting the blood spell," she whispered. Merlin didn't reply, but opened his eyes to see Kilgharrah encounter the white dragon, claws drawn. Then he turned as if the sight of the two fighting dragons was too much for him and approached Aderyn. He took her by her shackled hands and helped her up from the floor.

"The arrival of this second dragon will most definitely make Arthur hasten back to this place, " he told her. "He must not know of what has transpired here; he would demand an explanation that we have no time to grant him."

Aderyn, uncharacteristically short of words, nodded, in complete accord with the young man. Merlin nodded back, stooped and looked at the snoring guard, who immediately woke up and looked back in complete confusion.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked sympathetically, "you suddenly staggered and fell. Were you sick?"

The guard quickly picked himself up and sent Merlin the imploring 'please-do-not-tell-the-king-anything' glance.

_My god, he is good_, Aderyn realised. She had, in fact, never met such an accomplished sorcerer. Enchantments by just a glance and mastering the blood spell. Only Balinor ever came close to actually completing this more than advanced spell.

And that's when it all made sense to her. In one split second, her entire life changed and she felt the floor become unsteady underneath her feet.

And at that very moment, King Arthur, looking a little worse for wear, entered the room with a flourish, trailed by four knights that looked a somewhat charred and sweaty. Arthur didn't beat about the bush, but instantly indicated the spectacle outside the balcony doors.

"Where did _**that**_ come from?" he said furiously, his eyes accusing Merlin. Aderyn, still feeling somewhat shaken by her epiphany, looked at the King in bewilderment. Did he, after all, know that this young man was a dragonlord? The latter seemed to take it in his stride.

"I … he must have survived."

"You **think**?" came the sarcastic retort.

"It looked like a mortal blow to me," Merlin defending himself, "what do I know about dragons."

"**Nothing**, Merlin," the King bit, "like anything else. Absolutely _**nothing**_!"

Aderyn finally concluded that the contents of this peculiar discussion had its root in a previous event and something personal between master and servant.

"Incidentally," Gwaine said, "does anyone know why this one is attacking the white one?"

Arthur shrugged. "Wants Camelot for its own?"

"That makes absolutely no sense," Gwaine said, ignoring the King's affronted expression.

"It is of no consequence," Arthur argued, "the question is: What do we do now?"

"Let them kill each other?" was Leon's sensible solution.

"Wait, **look**!" Elyan cried and pointed. They gasped. The slim white dragon had managed to draw blood. A long gash now ran down the golden dragon's already scarred flank. Both Merlin and Aderyn felt a sharp pain and heard the dragon's intake of breath in their minds. There was blood. A lot of it. Long trails of blood started trickling down the creature's golden scales and quickly covered its flank.

"That's a lot of blood. It's as good as done for," Arthur murmured, now just as spellbound by the dragon fight like the rest of them.

Then something amazing happened.

As the blood ran down the dragon, it appeared to spread and solidify. It continued its red journey down the large dragon's limbs and claws and, defying nature, it even trickled upwards, covering it from head to toe. This phenomenon appeared to stump the white dragon momentarily, but it soon recovered and flew round in a loop to re-engage and launch another attack on the now shining red dragon. Fast as lightening was it as it shot through the air like an arrow and came down on its opponent with brutal vengeance. Bane opened his mouth and white fangs shone in the darkness.

Completely in vain. The red dragon didn't get a scratch. The white one bounced off its blood armour and was thrown tumbling down before it could regain its bearings and try again. Aderyn nodded inwardly. That was the blood spell in action. Beautifully performed. No sorcerer had ever managed to wield it to such a perfection.

A few minutes later, the red dragon managed to come down so hard on the white dragon that it became limp by the impact and started falling to the ground, slowly turning round its own centre on its way down. The red dragon rushed after it and both creatures disappeared from sight. The spectators were waiting with abated breath a bit longer, but nothing more happened.

While Arthur and the knights drew a sigh of relief, Merlin and Aderyn covered their ears with their hands as a piercing, high pitched scream forced its way through their minds.

"Morgana," Merlin murmured.

And the next minute he saw for himself. Out of thin air, Arthur's half sister suddenly appeared in the middle of the throne hall, transported by magic. And she was not alone.

In her arms, a bewildered Guinevere was trapped, having Morgana's hand round her throat.

x

_**Gotta love those cliffies … ;)**_

_**Want more?**_

**A/N, continued**: I am sure most of you know about the legendary fight between the white dragon and the red dragon. IN case you don't, I have copy-and-pasted this text from Wikipedia:

"The tale is taken up by Nennius in the _Historia Brittonum_. The dragons remain at Dinas Emrys for centuries until King Vortigern tries to build a castle there. Every night the castle walls and foundations are demolished by unseen forces. Vortigern consults his advisers, who tell him to find a boy with no natural father, and sacrifice him. Vortigern finds such a boy (who is later, in some tellings, to become Merlin) who is supposed to be the wisest wizard to ever live. On hearing that he is to be put to death to solve the demolishing of the walls, the boy dismisses the knowledge of the advisors. The boy tells the king of the two dragons. Vortigern excavates the hill, freeing the dragons. They continue their fight and the red dragon finally defeats the white dragon. The boy tells Vortigern that the white dragon symbolises the Saxons and that the red dragon symbolises the people of Vortigern. If Vortigern is accepted to have lived in the fifth century, then these people are the British whom the Saxons failed to subdue and who became the Welsh."

Obviously, I have – like the BBC – rewritten this myth somewhat. ;)


	8. Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!

**Disclaimers**: Don't worry, BBC, I'm not hurting Merlin – just playing with him a bit. ;)

**A/N**: This chapter needs no particular introduction, I'm sure. Read on and enjoy, and please tell me how I am doing and if I can do something to better my writing: style, language, plot. I'm here to learn. :)

Love your reviews! They keep me going!

**Chapter 7**

**Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!**

Merlin and Aderyn immediately understood what had happened, but it took Arthur a second more to wrap his brain round the stunning sight in front of him. Then Gwen rattled softly and the King exploded into action, rushing towards the odd couple like a madman. He was only stopped by a louder rattle from his wife whose beautiful neck was becoming increasingly more blue when the witch tightened her hand round it. Morgana tut-tut'ed.

"That's quite close enough, brother dear," she said in a low voice, "if you value your wretched wife's life, you stay back. My magic can easily shatter this puny spine with one twitch and a word."

Arthur froze on the spot, his entire body starting to shake, his eyes not daring to blink.

"How ..." he rasped, "how did you manage ..."

"To snatch your wife right in front of you disbelieving and highly incompetent guards? Easy! So easy!"

Morgana's smirk turned into a vicious snarl. "Compliments to your paranoid view on magic that leaves your castle wide open and unshielded for transporting in and out by magic. Isn't it just the irony of it, brother? That your hatred of magic is exactly what keeps you from protecting your heart and hearth? I think it is. Laugh with me! **Laugh**!"

The demented laughter that the witch emitted was the evidence of a sick and unstable mind. A watchful Merlin was wondering if Morgana was finally losing it completely and hoped that he could use it to their advantage.

Arthur tried diplomacy. "Morgana! Sister! I ..." But she cut him off.

"_Morgan le Fay_!"

"What?"

"_**Morgan le Fay**_, you miserable bastard! That is what I would have become, had the plan worked. Had my glorious dragon succeeded in his quest."

Her facial expression had changed from one of rage to one of frustrated grief, tears were glinting in the corner of her eyes and her mouth was twitching on the verge of giving in to deep-throated sobbing. She ranted on, frustrated and frantic.

"It was to be my time! It **was**! The plan was good! I sent Bane to discard of the other dragon and it crawled away to die. Who could have known that it survived? It shouldn't have been able to. I should have had the only dragon in the world."

By an impressive effort, she collected herself and her composure and with the sleeve of her black, ragged dress, dried her eyes. Merlin's never took his eyes of her, scrutinising her closely and constantly weighing the possibility of a safe intervention.

"And in that moment of triumph," she continued, "I would have been crowned queen – the Queen _Morgan le Fay_. The Witch Queen with wings."

Arthur tried very hard not to notice the creeping Leon, who had managed to inch his way round the intruder. If only he could bolt forward from behind her, Arthur might have a chance to get to Gwen before Morgana could perform her death spell. But it was never to be. The witch had sensed him all along and with a scornful expression sent the faithful and valiant knight flying through the air to connect with one of the pillars.

"Honestly, Arthur. Try something new," she sneered.

Merlin rushed to the fallen Leon, making sure he was all right and found that the tall knight had been knocked unconscious, but was otherwise intact. Quickly, he returned his attention to the hostage scene. The situation was critical. Normally, the warlock would make the ceiling cave in and thus render Morgana unconscious, and none would have been the wiser, everybody assuming that one of the witch's spells had gone wrong, but the hostage she had taken prevented him from doing this. Another solution might be a throttling spell that would force her to let go of Gwen's neck. However, was it not effective immediately, Morgana would have time to counteract it and the result could be fatal for the Queen. Sweat started trickling down Merlin's brow. For once in his life, he could see no way out of a situation … beyond revealing his powers.

"What do you want, Morgana, … I mean _Morgan le Fay_?" Arthur finally said, keeping a keen eye on the witch's hand and movements. The knights were now keeping quite still and waiting for the merest signal from their king, nobody daring to move an inch and risk Guinevere's life.

"What do I want? Are you kidding? I want my _**right**_, of course! I am the rightful regent of this country. I want Camelot. And I want you to suffer!"

Well, this was nothing new, the King thought.

"Fine, make me suffer. But why bring Gwen into all this?"

Morgana's face split in a disbelieving grin, "Are you really this **dumb**? Or are you just pretending to be the village idiot? She is the means to your suffering, of course." Morgana tightened her grip round Gwen's neck for effect.

"No!" Arthur exclaimed, "please, don't." Then he straightened and took one step closer. Morgana's grip tightened even more, causing Gwen's eyes to roll in a most disconcerting way. Arthur knew he had to procrastinate, and his mind was desperately trying to find a solution. _Promise her anything_, he thought desperately, _anything to spare Gwen's life and then we'll see about putting it right! I cannot face this life without her. I cannot_. Yet another part of him knew that he couldn't condemn his people to the cruel reign of his sister. _Stall for time! Stall for time!_

"You shall have the throne if you so desire, Morgana. And my life on top of it if it makes you happy. Just … show Gwen clemency. She is innocent of all this."

"Innocent? **She betrayed me**!" the witch yelled, each and every line in her face marred by pure, undiluted hatred. "You all did!" Blue lines were beginning to spread from the where witch's hand was squeezing and up Gwen's throat and the young queen started swaying in Morgana's arms.

"**NO**!" Arthur cried, his handsome face contorted in horror. "Morgana! Please! Tell me how to save my wife!"

Morgan le Fay smiled bitterly and said with disgust. "You are weak, Arthur Pendragon, but I always knew that. You will do as I say or I will snap the skinny neck of this puny chicken."

"I will, I will," Arthur assured her, his mind working overtime.

"Then draw up a document that inexorably reinstates me as the Queen and sole regent of Camelot."

The King looked at her in shocked silence. He hadn't seen that one coming. The cunning witch was making it legal and official. This could very well be impossible to ignore. One look at Morgana's white and hard face, and he knew she had him now.

"Call Geoffrey of Monmouth," she hissed.

x

He didn't know what he had hoped for. Perhaps that she would be tired and loosen her grip round his wife's throat or that her concentration would fail just one second. One second was all he and his knights needed, he was sure. But every time he as much as contemplated a move, Morgana would squeeze harder and Gwen's face become whiter.

Geoffrey had been summoned and was now drawing up the transference agreement's two documents: one in which Arthur Pendragon abdicated and renounced the throne indefinitely and one in which Morgana was granted eternal regency of Camelot. With this in her hand, she would have no trouble forming alliances with the neighbouring kingdoms. Arthur winced inwardly. But the main thing was getting Gwen out of the witch's clutches; afterwards, there would be time to figure out how to take Camelot back, documents be damned. That is … if he got the chance, he thought as he noticed the slow, ominous smile that spread over Morgana's pale face.

"One thing more, dear brother. I need another document that incarcerates you in the dungeons … forever."

As an appalled Geoffrey started working on this third document, Morgana could not help eagerly leaning over in anticipation and that was when Merlin made his move.

One snap of the fingers, and Guinevere disappeared from Morgana's grip and reappeared in the arms of her husband.

Arthur staggered and almost fell backwards in surprise as Gwen swayed between his arms, fighting to regain her balance, but they both saw Morgana's initial expression of profound shock, followed by intense rage. She raised her arms with a shriek, looking three times taller and dark as the night, ready to throw all hell's curses upon their heads when somebody suddenly stepped between her and the royal couple.

Morgana was lifted from the ground and thrown into the nearest column with a loud thud. The royal couple and the knights looked at Morgana in amazement as she slid down the granite surface and connected with the floor like a rag doll.

They all turned as one and looked at the person who had stepped forward and whose eyes still carried a golden sheen.

Merlin.

There was utter silence.

Then Gwen stepped forward and put a hesitant and gentle hand on Merlin's arm.

"Merlin?"

The warlock was still looking at Morgana's fallen form, watching out for the slightest hint of her regaining consciousness. Then, finally, the awkward silence and the strained ambience was cut short by a drawling voice: "Merlin, mate. You sure know how to liven up a party."

Gwaine, of course. Merlin couldn't help smiling. Then somebody suddenly rushed to him, pinning him with angry, hurt, shocked eyes. Arthur, of course. Merlin stopped smiling.

"Merlin, what happened? Did you do that? _**How**_ did you do that?"

Meanwhile, all focus on Merlin and completely, though momentarily, forgotten by everyone, Aderyn sneaked her way over to the fallen Morgana, who had started moving and was now recovering fast; and right before the witch was getting ready to strike back, the seer grabbed her wrist, catching her eyes with her own.

"Wouldn't you like to know your future?..."

Morgana looked into the abyss of her destiny and despaired.

x

Not making any sense of the situation or Merlin's part in it all, Arthur turned to check on their adversary that still lay by the column. By her stood their prisoner, Aderyn, who had been suspiciously silent. An angry glance from the King made her step back and let Arthur approach the witch.

Morgana was, to the King's surprise, conscious, but looking quite disturbed, raving and whimpering, and muttering something about her 'end' and 'calamities to come'. Two guards rushed to the King's aide and shackled her before they pulled her up on her feet. Then suddenly she reached out her arms, pointing, and wailed: "_**Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!**_" Arthur widened his eyes. She was pointing at Merlin.

Giving them a few instructions, the King let the guards take Camelot's arch enemy to the dungeons. His head felt like a hive of over-busy bees, all buzzing in different directions without making any kind of sense; he eventually found one focus: Merlin. Arthur turned and let his eyes drill their way into his manservant's. Merlin simply stood there, ignoring questions and people tugging at his sleeve, his expression calm and grave and his glance straight and unwavering, and finally.

Finally.

Arthur understood.

Camelot's protector. _**His **_protector. All along.

The enormity of the truth came crushing down on the King.

_My god! How long? Years?_

Aderyn stood back and watched, feeling humble and happy. She was witnessing history; she had been part of history and Balinor had been pivotal to history. She watched the young man in the middle of all the raucous and her thoughts reached out to him, trying to console him and assure him that all would be well. She felt him turn his mind towards her shortly, thanking her, before he turned his full attention to the shocked, relieved, hurt, puzzled, frightened crowd of people round him. Then finally, he looked at his King and said: "Arthur, can I talk to you in private?"

The King looked at him in silence and then nodded. On their way out of the throne hall, Arthur asked Percival to take Gwen and Leon to Gaius in the infirmary, the other knights were to rejoin the outer defence and handle the chaotic situation after the dragon attack.

As Merlin closed the heavy oak door behind him, he also felt he closed the door to safety. In there, in the conference room alone with Arthur, he was unprotected, vulnerable and exposed to the King's unfiltered anger. But that was how it had to be.

Serene, being in peace with his destiny, he slowly turned round to face his doom.

Yet, to Merlin's surprise, it was not an angry Arthur that met him. He simply still looked utterly bewildered.

"Merlin, what the hell happened out there? I can't make head or tail of it."

Merlin resisted an urge to actually serve him a cock-and-bull story that he might even have got away with, but he knew there had been too many witnesses, and not even Arthur could ignore the overwhelming evidence before him.

"Morgana threatened Gwen. You were about to give up the kingdom and I used the right moment to move Gwen away from Morgana and into your arms. When she then raised her arms, about to attack you with a power bolt, I stepped between you."

That was certainly a simple and factual summary of the recent events. Merlin stopped talking and Arthur waited. When nothing more came from his manservant, Arthur prompted him: "And then what?"

Merlin swallowed. Particularly the warlock's last spell must have seemed rather brutal. "And then I … pushed her into the column."

Arthur didn't even cock an eyebrow or deliver his usual smirk and sarcastic response. He simply asked:

"Do you have magic, Merlin?"

Merlin forced himself to meet the royal's eyes.

"Yes," he said.

Arthur nodded. Then looked down and emitted a small sigh.

"So it was you all along? You who are 'the great wizard', the one who protects me?"

Merlin nodded, unable to speak. Arthur looked down, moving his head from side to side and then lifted a hand that somehow got stuck in the air like an indecisive branch in the storm.

"I … can't … wrap my mind round this, Merlin," the King rasped.

"I don't blame you," Merlin sighed, "one moment I am your silly, clumsy manservant without an inch of talent for anything ..." Merlin was passionately interrupted by a King whose voice was cracking.

"That's not _true_," he insisted, his voice on the verge of tears, "it's not true. You are the bravest, most loyal friend I know. You didn't need any special talents. Why couldn't you have left it with that? Why did you have to go and learn magic?"

Merlin looked at him in utter surprise, both at the unexpected praise of his nature and at the assumption the King had made about the origin of his magical powers. "I didn't learn this, Arthur. I was _**born**_ with it. It was always my destiny to serve you and save your royal bottom more times than you can count."

"Born with it? But that's not possible."

"Are you kidding? I was making my mother dive for floating diapers and catch flying pacifiers before I could walk. It was driving her nuts."

Arthur looked at him in disbelief, mouthing a 'surely not' and then started chuckling at first and then laughed out loud. The laughter was liberating, making both men relax considerably. Eventually Arthur dried his eyes and said:

"Now, that sounded almost like the old Merlin."

"I **am** the old Merlin," the warlock said, outraged, "Arthur, all this Emrys-business doesn't change who I am; I am the hopeless idiot you have come to know. It is just another part of me that I have never dared to show you."

Arthur stood shaking his head. "You should have, though" he said, his expression serious again.

"That could have cost me my life."

"Oh, _please_!" the King cried, "you could have just blown the lock or put out the pyre! What would have stopped you?"

"The realisation that I could no longer look out for you and save your bacon when needed," Merlin said, quite seriously. Arthur fell silent.

"How many times, exactly? And when?" he asked softly.

Merlin answered just as softly: "Too many to count. Arthur, a complete list would take days to ..."

"Right," the King admitted, "now is not the time." Then he sighed deeply, regret shaking his chest.

"Merlin … you have no idea how much this pains me to say. In fact, I can hardly get it over my lips, but these events have shown me that it is necessary ..."

Merlin stiffened. It looked encouraging there for a while; now what was the prat up to?

Arthur raised his eyes and looked into Merlin's, conveying sincerity. Then, as if it was too painful, he diverted them and said:

"Morgana is too knocked out right now to do anything, but when she recovers, she will be fully capable of dashing in and out of this castle as she pleases. Today has shown that. She said a lot of hateful and bitter things, but one absolute and important truth: If she – or any other sorcerer – can just fly in and whisk away Gwen, then this castle is too exposed to threats for words."

He then looked back at Merlin, meeting the glance of complete surprise. Whatever his manservant had expected, this wasn't it. Arthur grimaced.

"Merlin, I need you to … conjure up or whatever you people do … a protective shield round the castle. Preferably round all of Camelot if that is possible."

Merlin did a double take. The warlock didn't believe his own ears. In fact, he was looking at his king with his mouth hanging open quite unashamedly.

"Did you just ..." he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence.

"If you look smug just one - small - second, I swear to god, Merlin, I will leave you in the stocks for weeks and use your sorry remains for target practice afterwards. The only reason I am tolerating this is because of what happened to Gwen. That can't ever, _**ever**_ happen again. Seeing her in the clutches of that witch was too much to bear."

Well, _baby steps_. But that was one huge, fat baby, Merlin thought.

x

_**Well, that was one revelation – more disclosure to come! :-)**_


	9. Aderyn of Alba

**Disclaimers: **All BBCs – I'm not making any money on it. Promise!

**A/N: **Wonderful reviews! Again! I can't thank you enough. We're approaching the end now, but don't worry – I'm not quite done yet.

**Chapter 8**

**Aderyn of Alba**

When Arthur and Merlin came out of the conference room, they found Gaius waiting for them in the throne hall, eyes anxious and face strained. His arms were spattered with traces of blood and grime, evidence of an exhausting and tragic day at the infirmary.

"Gwen?" Arthur instantly asked, his voice thick with concern.

"She's fine apart from some colourful bruises on her neck. Leon has regained consciousness and has rejoined the other knights despite a loud headache. What has been going on here? I heard Morgana had entered the castle?"

Arthur nodded. "She did. The guards have taken her to the dungeons now and we will … find a way to … reinforce the protection of the castle."

"Indeed," Gaius said, noticing the King's hesitant articulation; he let his eyes dart to Merlin whose facial expression could best be described as nondescript. "And I see my apprentice safe and sound here. Why is it that people were avoiding my eyes when I asked about him?"

And now the King was doing exactly the same thing, Gaius concluded.

"What's going on?" he asked, eyes squinting. Arthur cleared his voice.

"It's a long story, Gaius. I ask that you return to the infirmary. The threat is not yet completely averted and when all is over, I will call all members of the Round Table to the conference room and inform you of today's events in detail."

Gaius' cocked eyebrow remained high up in his brow as he half turned and indicated their prisoner, who was still guarded by the constant sentinel.

"And who is she?"

Arthur rubbed his chin. "I actually don't know."

"Just wanted to know about Balinor," Aderyn contributed patiently, looking tired.

_Balinor_? Gaius exchanged a look with Merlin, clearly dying to know what had passed in the throne hall during the last couple of hours.

"How do I know that you're not in league with Morgana?" the King asked, sending Aderyn a sharp glance.

"Common sense?" she suggested drily, forgetting diplomacy. Her disrespectful tone of voice made the King's face turn red and Merlin hastened to intervene.

"Why … don't I start working on that … protection project you want me to do and we can find out about her later?"

Arthur never had time to even consider the proposal. The doors to the great hall were burst open with a vengeance for the second time that day and two guards rushed in. Arthur blanched. He immediately recognised the guards as the ones he had sent to escort Morgana to the dungeons.

"What is it?"

"Sire … she disappeared!" they huffed almost in unison, fear in their voices.

"How did **that **happen?" the King barked.

"We … she … We had just reached the dungeons, when she suddenly fainted on us … and pouf, she was gone!"

Arthur swore soundly. Perhaps she hadn't been as shocked as she had seemed. Without thinking, he burst out: "I should have sent you with them, Merlin. You could have stopped her."

Merlin bit his lip and both Gaius' eyebrows virtually disappeared. The King winced, keenly aware of his lapsus and almost afraid of looking at his court physician.

"I mean …!"

"Never mind, Arthur," Merlin said quickly, "I must start working on those shields now, or Morgana will simply reappear when she feels like it."

And with those words, the manservant scooted out of the throne hall, heading for the nearest staircase to the roof. The two chagrined guards were sent away and now remained Arthur, Gaius and Aderyn and her faithful watchdog.

"Sire?" Gaius said, his face inquisitive. Clearly, there was something about Merlin that the King was disinclined to divulge. Arthur sighed.

"I'll go with you to the infirmary, Gaius. I need to see my wife, and I would like to talk to the wounded."

"And her?" Gaius asked, indicating yet again Aderyn. The seer sent them an amicable smile, having rediscovered her diplomacy.

"She must return to the dungeon until I am certain about her."

"What _again_?" Aderyn protested, outraged and annoyed that the smile hadn't worked, "do you realise how that hole **stinks**?"

"Non-negotiable!" Arthur barked, confirming his order by nodding at the guard, who instantly grabbed the woman's arm and started dragging her towards the entrance to the hallway.

As much as Aderyn was willing to play along to ease the suspicious mind of the King, she had no desire to make friends with the dungeon rats again. As soon as the throne hall was out of sight, she let herself fall back, and before the escorting guard could react and haul her forward, she placed a hand on his nape, instilling magnificent dreams in him. She left him leaning against the wall with a smile of bliss on his goofily grinning and slightly drooling lips as she murmured one of the few spells she really did well and her shackles opened and fell to the marble floor with a loud clang. Then she rushed up the staircase. Having listened in to the conversation between Gaius, Merlin and Arthur, she knew what the warlock was up to: Merlin would have gone to the roof – the logical place for wrapping up the place in a protective shield.

She found the young dragonlord standing right in the middle of the arched rooftop with closed eyes and a relaxed, but concentrated face. Darkness had fallen and left his shape illuminated only by the ghostly sheen of torches. The guards in the embrasures and at the observation posts were fast asleep, indubitably induced by the more than competent sorcerer. Aderyn looked at him with pride, taking in his tall, lanky frame and the dark hair. Then the seer closed her own eyes and reached out for the signature she now knew so well. She felt him tremble by her presence.

_What do you want? I'm working!_

_I'd like to help._

_How?_

_I can prolong your perseverance and support your strength when you spread the shield._

To his utter surprise, Merlin found her presence soothing and invigorating. His mind accepted hers without a moment's thought even if his intellect did remain wary of her existence. For a while they stood there with intertwined minds, hers helping him to stretch his powers. She was his foundation when his mind soared and his balance when he reached out beyond borders. And finally, he realised, he had succeeded in including all of Camelot in the power shield – a feat he was not sure he could have accomplished without her help. It would be a shield that he would need to reinforce from time to time, but essentially this shield would effectively keep out any other magic than his own. Merlin opened his eyes and let his arms fall with a satisfied and relieved sigh. Then he turned to Aderyn.

"Who are you, really?"

"That depends on who **you **are, really." came the enigmatic reply.

Merlin cocked his head, looking very much like a puzzled bird. Aderyn continued, clearing her voice:

"I saw your face etched with the grief of Balinor's death and I know that he fled to a place where he was happy for a while before Uther's men found him in a village. He had a family there, didn't he?"

She paused, carefully controlling her voice.

"Are you his son?" Aderyn finally asked, her eyes glazed with moisture and her mouth quivering. She had already guessed the answer, but she needed to hear him confirm it.

"Yes," the last dragonlord admitted, his voice sounding very fragile. There really wasn't any point in hiding it any longer. Well, except from the dollophead, who had had his share of revealed secrets for the day.

She smiled. A really personable, handsome smile that reached her dark eyes and made them shine with life. Eyes that somehow looked familiar.

"Then I am your aunt, Merlin."

"What?"

She smiled at his confusion and, noticing that the message hadn't quite sunk in, emphasised: "I'm Balinor's sister, my dear."

She saw his chest heave and his hooded eyes starting to glint.

"That is why your magic so easily and readily embraces me," she added.

She had approached further and was standing quite close to him now. Her nephew. Her only living relative. Her brother's son. The residual trace of her brother's soul she had sensed all along. Merlin's face had begun losing control, his calm surface trembling and tears threatening to leave his eyes.

"He … he had a sister?"

She nodded. "He sent me away right before Uther chained up Kilgharrah. Because of my family connection to him – the most celebrated dragonlord of all times – and my own skills, I was in danger and he wouldn't have that."

"Where? Where did you go?"

"Way up north. To Alba. He had promised to call for me when it was safe to return."

"And of course, it never was," Merlin said softly, sounding a little breathless. Then he started when he felt her put her hand on his cheek, her sleek fingers catching the first tears that made it down his face.

"I see so much of him in you," she whispered. Merlin put his hand over hers – and then wrapped her up in his arms, giving in to soundless sobs.

x

"**There **you are! What took you so long? I thought this magic business was a matter of simply snapping your fingers."

The King had returned from the infirmary after making sure that his wife was well. Leaving Gwen in the care of Gaius once more, he had rushed back to the conference room.

"Sometimes it is," Merlin murmured, "but this assignment," he said more loudly, "was particularly complicated."

"Were you successful?"

"Yes."

"Fine," Arthur said, letting out his abated breath, yet still appearing upset at something, "then you can set out to find our bleeding prisoner, who escaped!"

"Who? Aderyn? Escaped? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know how. Sorcery, most likely. We found her escort dazed with a foolish grin of delight in the hallway, and she was nowhere to be found."

"What are you talking about, Arthur, she's right here."

And then Merlin stepped aside to reveal Aderyn, who had been standing right behind him.

"What? … What?"

Arthur glared at her, almost angrier at her reappearance than her disappearance.

Aderyn smiled jauntily, very much on the verge of grinning, and explained:

"I'm sorry. The guard must have been exhausted. He suddenly dropped to the floor and the next second he was sleeping, or daydreaming or something. So I went to find Merlin."

Arthur was smiling too – in sarcasm.

"You're lying!"

"Certainly not," she dead panned.

"And what is your role in this whole affair? And don't tell me you were just "passing by"," the King warned her, his face turning redder by the minute.

"Balinor was my brother," the seer said softly.

"I warn... what?"

The sudden truthful statement so took Arthur by surprise that he almost missed the moment entirely. She bestowed a sad smile upon the King.

"He sent me away at a very early age, Sire. I only just recently returned to find him."

Arthur fell completely silent, his mouth hanging slightly open. It was as if the more information he was given, the less coherent this day's events had become. So many elements ostensibly unrelated to each other. A rumour that Morgana and Emrys were about to attack Camelot, a mysterious woman asking for Balinor, Morgana attacking with a dragon and another dragon apparently defending them, his manservant discarding of Morgana with a wave of his hand, turning out to be this fabled Emrys ...

"I have been asking about my brother at each and every tavern and market I have come across," Aderyn sighed, "and I may just have started the rumour about Emrys by accident as I thought he might be connected to Balinor's disappearance."

"Why?"

Aderyn hesitated, not about to give away her powers. This king might have shown himself to be extraordinarily adaptive, but magic being acceptable was still very much new to him.

"Because the Druids told me that the prophecies about Emrys were about to unfold."

"And the dragons?"

"Dragons?"

"Yes, the dragons. In case you didn't notice them. Apparently No. 1 dragon belonged to Morgana, though I have no idea where she got it, but what about dragon No. 2? I recognised it. I fought it years ago after it broke its chain, and the idiot here [at this point he was giving Merlin a clout on the head] told me I had dealt it a mortal blow. But lo and behold! Here it was again. Now coming down on Morgana's dragon. Where did it come from? Did you summon it?"

"I'm not a dragonlord," Aderyn said patiently.

"Who knows, Arthur? How about I go and check and make sure it doesn't return?" Merlin suggested briskly, attempting to divert Arthur's focus on the dragons.

"You can do that?"

"I can try."

"Be careful."

"Always. I'll take her with me and keep an eye on her."

Arthur nodded his approval at this idea, secretly relieved that someone else would be watching the elusive Aderyn, and Merlin turned and rushed back up the stairs to the roof, Aderyn in tow.

"Are you going to tell him that you are the last dragonlord?" she asked, curiously, when they were in a safe distance from the King.

"I don't know. Probably. Eventually."

"Just too much for him right now?"

"Oh, yeah."

Back on the top of the roof, where the guards were still snoring noisily in the dark, Merlin closed his eyes and contacted Kilgharrah. Merlin had no idea where the two dragons had gone down, so he needed Kilgharrah's help in locating them. The golden, now red, dragon responded quickly, his voice urgent.

_Quickly, young warlock. I have found Aithusa. He needs your help._

Merlin, without explaining anything and simply assuming that Aderyn had been listening in, grabbed his aunt's hand and the next second he had transported them both to the spot where Aithusa had fallen to the ground.

x

The busy infirmary was finally simmering down as the work load of incoming wounded abated gradually. A tired court physician stopped in his tracks momentarily, shaking his head at how much damage one dragon could do in such a short time. As such, one might even understand why Uther had chained Kilgharrah all those years ago. Fear! Fear of what might happen if such an omnipotent entity attacked a vulnerable place full of people. Uther had lived in paranoid, disabling fear. At the time, it had been convenient. Sorcerers had run amok, drunk with their own power, and the country had been in uproar. Yet Uther had not understood that extreme measures could only be carried so far and that a regent would have to adapt to the various times and situations at hand. The people had been grateful at first. Then, gradually as the country healed, Uther's fanaticism had become a liability.

Now, there was his son: Kind-hearted, generous, fair. But, unfortunately, upholding the ban on magic. Just as opposed to the use of magic as his father.

Or was he?

Was it Gaius' imagination, or was something going on between Arthur and Merlin that hinted a certain approach towards the use of magic? The last encounter that the physician had witnessed between the two had certainly indicated such a development.

Gaius decided to ask Gwen, who was helping him with some of the patients, her neck bandaged and her voice somewhat hoarse.

"Gwen?"

"Yes?" she croaked. The physician winced; her voice would have to be spared as much as possible.

"Why will no one tell me what happened with Merlin in the throne hall? Please – just use as few words as possible."

"Please, Gaius. He should tell you himself."

Gaius eyed the Queen sharply. Could it be...? No-ooo! Impossible. The very fact that Merlin was still free to move round and was not sitting in one of the stinking dungeons cells was evidence enough that his magic had not been revealed.

Then the old man remembered something else.

"Gwen, the woman in the throne hall that Arthur had shackled. Who was she?"

"We're not sure as to _whom_ she is," the Queen rasped, forgetting about using few words, "but her name, according to the knights, is Aderyn of Alba."

Gaius nearly dropped the scissors he was hovering with over a extensive wound of burnt flesh. The patient in question squealed in fear at the prospect of a large metallic object falling into this open gash and raw flesh. Gaius looked at the poor sod with an apologetic expression and then turned to look at Gwen again."Are you sure?" he almost whispered.

She nodded, saving her voice.

_Extraordinary_, Merlin's mentor thought, _extraordinary_. He cast his memory back to earlier and darker times when Uther was purging Camelot of dragonlords. A tall, young man with dark, dark hair, dark intense eyes and an aquiline nose looking at him in gratitude.

"_I shall never forget this, Gaius."_

"_Don't mention it. In effect, _please_ don't mention it. Tomorrow, you'll be out of here and hopefully on your way to safety. What about family? Do you have kin that you need to send a message?"_

_The dragonlord's glance grew gentle and dreamy when Gaius mentioned family. He said:_

"_Only one. My little bird. But I have already sent her away. She is safe."_

"_So you predicted this?"_

_Balinor raised his head to look at his friend. "No, I didn't. _She_ did. But I didn't listen."_

_And then he fell silent, darkness creeping into his eyes._

His little bird.

His kin.

Aderyn.

Coincidence?

Gaius didn't believe in coincidences. He believed in Destiny. And he believed he now knew who this Aderyn was.

x

When they reappeared, Merlin was the one to lose balance in the dark night while Aderyn held her ground. She quickly saw that his sense of destination was precise. In front of them stood one massive dragon with shining red scales and golden reptilian eyes and one younger, sleeker, white one, lying on the ground with closed eyes. Both Aderyn and Merlin quickly reconstructed the fall in their minds. The large dragon had connected with the ground on top of the hill and then rolled down the slope, ripping several trees apart in the process. When it finally lay still, its limp body had shaped an area of flat terrain which was where they were standing now.

She turned to meet Kilgharrah's eyes, and saw that the dragon recognised her.

"Merlin?" he said, relief in his voice, "and Aderyn?" was added with a hint of puzzlement.

"Then you were the one looking for Balinor," the great dragon slowly deduced.

"You could have contacted me," the seer said, somewhat miffed. Kilgharrah drew back his enormous head.

"I was busy," he defended himself.

"I had to find out about Balinor's death from others."

"I am sorry, young seer," Kilgharrah said softly, "I did not find out myself until his successor spoke to me."

"Merlin."

"Yes."

Meanwhile, Aderyn's nephew was kneeling by Aithusa, who was still breathing, albeit raggedly. The slim dragon had suffered several broken bones, but they had already healed. The skin on his neck had obviously been ripped by large teeth, but just as obviously healed recently. Merlin squinted at his old friend.

"The fractures and wounds are healed. Your doing?"

"The physical healing was easy. The healing of his mind will be less simple and only you can carry it out, Merlin."

The warlock nodded and reached out his hands, placing them on Aithusa's forehead, his heart racing with love for the creature. Then he closed his eyes, concentrating, and sent first a dragonlord command into Aithusa's mind again and again until he felt the dragon stir. Locating Morgana's black magic, he then hastened to remove every trace of it he could find, and finished by wrapping the dragon's mind in his love. Merlin very much hoped this would do the trick, but the fact of the matter was that there was no way to be absolute certain … until his patient woke up.

And as if on cue, the big dragon opened his eyes.

x

_**Still some explanations to go through! Poor Arthur – and poor Merlin. ;)**_


	10. A New Era Epilogue

**Disclaimers: **Still belongs to the BBC. I made up Aderyn, but they can have her if they treat her nicely. ;)

**A/N:** So we come to the last chapter and epilogue. I hope you have enjoyed this story. Anon gave me good advice about en expression I used in the first chapter and it has been amended. As for this chapter, I have decided not to let Merlin go through each and every magical event in his conversations with Arthur, but I have selected a few that I thought were important for the further development of their relationship. The rest you have to imagine – or I might transfer them to series of drabbles – who knows. Anyway, cheers for sticking with me. :)

**Chapter 9**

**A New Era**

Aderyn moved her tall form back a step or two when she saw the white scales of the dragon rustle softly. The signs were clear, he was coming to! And they had no guarantee that Merlin had actually managed to reach him.

Aithusa could still be _Bane _and torch anything in the vicinity, and return to whom he perceived as his master: Morgana.

Merlin was doing his damnedest to avoid a confrontation and with his hand still on the huge creature's forehead continued to chant his dragonlord command. Then finally he stopped. And they all three held their breath.

Eventually Aderyn felt the tinkling of another mind touching hers, Kilgharrah extended his long neck and Merlin felt a lump forming in his throat.

Aithusa was thoroughly confused, but responding to the dragonlord's call, blinking his clear, orange eyes to look at them all.

_Aithusa_, Merlin called, reminding the dragon of his birth.

_I am summoned_, the dragon thought back. _I heed your wish and salute you, oh dragonlord_.

Relieved beyond words, Merlin now placed both hands on the massive head and started whispering to Aithusa in dragon tongue, telling him that he must go with Kilgharrah, that they had been separated, but now they were together again. Then he fell silent and closed his eyes. After a few second he suddenly open and widened his eyes, turned round and yelled at Aderyn:

"**Stand back. Stand back. He's getting up now**."

Both seer and dragonlord hastened to get out of the way as the big form almost shook the ground as he staggered to his feet. Ripping up trees and bushes, Aithusa had soon covered aunt and nephew in dust and leaves, but the worst was to come: He shook himself.

It was a veritable storm and rain of pebbles, dirt, grime, branches, twigs, leaves and all sorts of bugs that Merlin did not care to think about. When the dust settled, they dared to open their eyes and look up at the magnificent sight of two dragons, white and red, that now stood side by side. Merlin felt his chest swell with pride and love. The last two dragons to walk this world. His dragons! His responsibility as the last dragonlord.

Sensing his musings, Aderyn leaned over and whispered in his ear:

"You'd better hurry up and get some children, Nephew, or there will be no one to look after these boys after you're gone."

Kilgharrah easily heard her comment and cocked his head, sporting the hint of an evil leer. Aithusa looked a little confused still.

Merlin blanched.

x

Upon their return to the castle, the King called his manservant to the conference room. In the hallway, Merlin left Aderyn in the care of Gwaine's broad smile, designed to make any woman swoon. However, Aderyn was not any woman; she simply patted his arm amiably and said: "Why don't you show me your playground?"

"I could show you much more than that..." he started. The seer stopped him laughingly. "Ah, to be young again … but let's just leave that for now, shall we? I don't want to compromise this place's "natural resources"."

Her comment had Gwaine roar with laughter and they went down the hallway, arm in arm, leaving Merlin a little jealous. There were so many things he would like to ask his new-found relative, but for now, Arthur needed more answers.

The warlock entered the conference room, finding a very tired king going through preliminary reports of recent occurrences.

"Where's Aderyn?" he immediately asked.

"I left her with Gwaine."

"Wasn't that a little risky?" Arthur pointed out, "you know the man's reputation with women."

"Risky for him or her? I know Gwaine. He's not about to abandon wariness just because he's guarding a woman."

Arthur didn't reply, but beckoned Merlin to approach instead.

"What was the result of your dragon hunt?"

"Oh, they're both gone and won't be back," Merlin assured him.

Arthur widened his eyes, slightly upset at his manservant's easy manner about the most dangerous creature in the world.

"Merlin, how can you possibly know that?"

"I know. Trust me."

"_**Trust you?**_" Arthur suddenly thundered, "a _secret sorcerer _has been my manservant and most intimate confidante for _**years **_and you ask me to _trust that man_?"

Merlin winced inwardly. It had been a long day, and the night was well under way. Were they really to have that whole conversation now?

"I can hear how that must sound, but Arthur ..." he paused and then locked his eyes with the King's before he continued.

" … you have always been able to trust me … implicitly."

"How can I possibly know that?" Arthur argued, spreading his hands in frustration at the paradox.

"Well, think about it. If my intention had been to kill you, wouldn't I have done it long ago?"

"Perhaps you were after my father."

Without knowing it, Arthur had hit a truly sore nerve. Merlin couldn't suppress a wounded shiver. Fortunately, the King misunderstood.

" … but, since you actually were the one who persuaded me to let him live when I could have killed him in anger, I guess that gets you off the hook," he admitted.

"However," he added, "how can you not see the potential danger you now represent? You are equipped with the most lethal and all-powerful weapon in the world. Who's to guarantee that you won't turn evil and cause suffering and death?"

Merlin looked at the King with a certain fatigue.

"Imagine yourself having the sharpest, most dangerous sword in the world. It is capable of slaying more enemies in one stroke than any other sword. A sword that grants you absolute power. Now, would you wield it more often because of that? Would you kill innocent people because of that?"

"No," Arthur agreed, "but that is a completely hypothetical situation and as such not a valid point..."

"It's not hypothetical at all," Merlin argued, "the sword exists and it is in your possession."

This stunned Arthur into silence momentarily.

"Excalibur? … But it ..."

Then he fell silent again, pondering.

"You're right," the King finally said, "it is powerful..."

Merlin stepped forward, eager to pursue his verbal victory. "Yet the sword has no will of its own; it is completely controlled by the person wielding it."

Arthur looked at him. "But if I go crazy, I might run amok with a highly deadly sword."

"That is the risk that comes from the combination of men and weapons," Merlin stated, "but there is one difference between swords and magic that you have not yet mentioned."

"What is that?"

"Swords are solely designed for mutilation and killing. Magic can be used for healing."

Arthur didn't answer. His brow was deeply furrowed.

"Magic is neither good nor bad, Arthur," Merlin emphasised, "it's simply an ability, a gift. Like somebody who is born with a gift for music. Now, you can scream that music into people's ears or you can sing a soft lullaby for your baby."

"Riiiight?" Arthur said, hesitantly, not completely convinced, "then do something …. nice and non-threatening magic right here and now."

This took Merlin by surprise, still so very careful about showing his magic openly. After contemplating the request, however, he held out his hand and produced … a rose. Arthur widened his eyes. Then quickly the rose metamorphosised into a … sphere of blue light.

Arthur looked curious at first and then the farthing dropped:

"Oh, my god … can't be! That was .. that was _**you**_?"

"Yes," Merlin said gently.

"But that's impossible! You were unconscious and dying!"

Merlin smiled. "My magic reacted on my subconscious concern for you and produced the sphere to help and guide you."

Arthur stood shaking his head in awe. He had trusted that sphere and followed it out of the cavern. It had helped him and shown him the way, without which he would have been trapped there forever. It had been Merlin's subconsciousness, the very essence of his manservant encompassed in that blue sphere. How many more times, Arthur suddenly wondered, had Merlin been there to help him? Save his life even? Always in the hidden, convinced that he would lose his life if discovered. He could have just left, back to Ealdor, in safety. Instead, this boy came to the one place in Albion that probably was the most dangerous place for sorcerers. Arthur continued shaking his head. Then he looked up.

"Merlin, over the next days, I need to know each and every move with magic you have ever done since you came here. I will not prosecute you for using magic in a time when it was highly forbidden, but in return I need to know everything!"

Merlin froze on the spot. Did the King just grant him an amnesty? Provided that he tell him everything?

_Oh, dear._

The warlock idly wondered if that amnesty would still be valid once he was finished telling Arthur _everything_. Yet, what could he do but accept it.

"Of course," he said.

"Good. Well, there remains one nasty trial for us both tonight before we can turn in," the King said briskly.

"What is that?"

"The debriefing in the conference room."

x

The large Round Table stood there in the middle of the room, its carved ornaments timeless and the smooth surface whispering of a glorious past. Already, it had seen many historical events and heard various legendary tales. And here members of the table were again - assembled . All the knights, Gwen, Gaius, Arthur and Merlin. Aderyn had been left in the throne hall in the company of another guard, less inclined to give into daydreaming. Knowing full well that everything would be all right, she seized the opportunity to lean back and relax a little. Before long, she was snoring pleasantly.

The Round Table was full and the knights looked tired, torn and dirty. It had been a long day. King Arthur understood that and felt it in his own bones, but he could not let the sun rise and start a new day before the Round Table had been convened.

"I will make it as short as I can, but today's confusing events need to be recounted in an orderly fashion so that you all understand what has transpired here.

This afternoon, Camelot was attacked by a white dragon under the command of Morgana. For unknown reasons, another dragon chose to attack Morgana's new weapon, sending it hurling to the ground. Shortly hereafter, Morgana appeared out of thin air and by magical means in the throne hall, carrying my wife as a hostage. Her aim was to take over the kingdom and its subjects and for that she needed a signed document. Geoffrey of Monmouth was called. However, before any signatures could be applied, Gwen disappeared from Morgana's grip and reappeared in my arms. Clearly, this was not Morgana's doing; she raged and prepared to slay us with magic. Someone in this room, however, stepped in and, also by magic, protected me and my wife, and Morgana was knocked unconscious. Most of you know who this person was, but for you who do not, I shall clarify..."

Arthur paused and turned to his right.

"... Merlin was the person in question."

Silence fell and the proverbial pin almost dropped. Though most of the knights had been present during the stunning scene, the actual statement of what happened had shocked them nonetheless. Gaius, having his growing suspicion confirmed, felt the colour leave his face and turned to look at his young friend as if making sure that the boy was still alive. Two more questions pressed on in his mind: Did Arthur know of Gaius' involvement of keeping Merlin hidden for all these years? And what was Arthur going to do about Merlin?

Then the King decided to break the silence.

"After what happened to my wife today, I decided that the only way to avoid future attacks by Morgana and other sorcerers is to fight fire with fire and since my manservant has shown himself to be proficient in this area, I then asked him to create a protective shield round Camelot. He informs me that this is now in place.

Morgana herself, alas, escaped our clutches before the shield was in place. We are still investigating how that happened."

"Last, but not least," Arthur continued, "it would appear that the woman that Sirs Gwaine, Elyan and Percival brought to the castle earlier today is actually sister to the late dragonlord Balinor. Since I am not entirely convinced of her innocence, I have decided to have her guarded until further notice. Hopefully further investigations into her role will determine whether or not she played a part."

Gaius' eyes were now virtually popping out of their sockets. Balinor's sister! Merlin's aunt! He knew that the woman had been closely related to the dragonlord, but he had no idea it was that close. He threw Merlin a glance and saw that the young sorcerer still stood next to his king, erect and relaxed. Apparently, they had already talked about all this. Now, there was a conversation he would have killed to have heard.

"I am sure," Arthur concluded, now in a lower tone of voice, "that you are all wondering what I plan to do to my manservant. He has, after all, turned out to be a criminal offender for quite some time, willingly breaking the ban on magic repeatedly according to his own statement."

Arthur turned to look at Merlin before he turned to face the assembly again.

"And the answer is: Absolutely nothing."

A relieved mutual grin waved through the group of knights, Gwen let out her abated breath and Gaius closed his eyes and sent a prayer of gratefulness to any god that was listening.

"It would seem that I owe my life to my servant on more than one occasion and I would show myself as a bitter and unfair king if I then took his life in return. So ... I hereby grant Merlin, also known as Emrys, a full pardon."

Cheers soared and some of the knights enthusiastically and spontaneously leaned over and shook the warlock's hand. Arthur leaned over too - only to whisper in Merlin's ear: ".. provided that the proviso is respected, of course."

Shortly after, Merlin found himself to be in a tight embrace with Gwaine, who wouldn't stop pounding his back forcefully.

"I always knew there was something about you, Merlin," he claimed in a low voice right by the warlock's ear, "and now that I know precisely what it was, I have a ton of laundry that I'm sure you can do with a snap of your fingers - literally."

Merlin grinned into the bigger man's shoulder. "Sorry, my friend. I'm still _Arthur's _manservant."

Merlin felt a heavy hand come down on his scrawny shoulders and it wasn't Gwaine's. "You know, Merlin, there is no reason why you shouldn't take care of my knights too. After all ... now that I know what you're capable of ..."

_Oh, no!_

x

As they were finally ready to call it a day (and night), Merlin decided to talk Aderyn's case right before the door closed behind Arthur and his queen.

"Arthur, wait a minute, does Aderyn really have to spend the night in the dungeons? I can vouch for her, really I can."

Arthur, despite his fatigue, cocked his eyebrows.

"Oh? You can, huh? Something more you want to tell me?"

Merlin swallowed. If Aderyn was to sleep in a proper bed tonight, he would have to tell Arthur one last secret and he wasn't sure how the over-tired regent would respond to it. On the other hand, the royal fatigue might just save the warlock's life.

"Well ... it turns out she's a relative of mine, but I didn't know until today."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "A relative? How is that possible?"

"It just ... is," the manservant answered feebly.

"Oh, no, no, _**no**_. I'm not letting you off that easily," Arthur emphasised to Merlin's great chagrin, "I'm not that tired. Who exactly is she to you, Merlin? And no lies! Remember the proviso!"

"Well ... um ... she's my aunt," Merlin admitted.

"Aunt?" said Arthur, his eyes somewhat empty.

Merlin fell taciturn, waiting for the famous farthing to drop. Though not sporting the sharpest mind at late, he knew Arthur would get it eventually.

"But she is Balinor's sister," the King said slowly. A soft gasp came from the room behind him; his Queen had got there faster. And then suddenly it dropped and his expression was almost comical.

"Noooo-_ooo_," Arthur breathed intensely. "That can't be!"

And then a huge pile of information made sense to Arthur Pendragon all of a sudden: Merlin's silent behaviour at the inn, Merlin's heavy tears at Balinor's death, both then and now ... Merlin's confidence about the dragons!

Consequently, the same Merlin suddenly found his neckerchief inside Arthur's fist and the King's face very close to his.

"Did _you _call that second dragon today?"

"Um .. yeah."

"Why didn't you just send the first one **away**?"

"It had been turned by Morgana."

"And now?" the King wanted to know.

"I turned it back to me," Merlin hastened to assure him.

"And why the _**hell **_did you allow the Great Dragon to maim Camelot in the first place those years ago?" Arthur asked, relevantly.

"I didn't become a dragonlord until my father died," Merlin replied softly.

" … Oh."

Arthur finally let go of the neckerchief, blinking with exhaustion.

"Perhaps I really am really, really tired," the King acquiesced. "I just go to bed. We'll talk in the morning when I have the strength to belt you round."

"Sire - what about Aderyn?" Merlin still nedded to know.

"Who? Oh, she's your responsibility from now on."

"Does that mean..."

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"Shut up."

And finally the door closed and Merlin was alone in the hallways.

x

Heading for Gaius' and his own quarters, Merlin felt light-headed and dizzy. In one day his entire life had changed entirely and he would have to adapt to the new order, but for now he could hardly encompass it all. It made his heart jump with joy, it made his chest cold with anxiety. The warlock was a veritable battle ground for conflicting emotions.

Halting a guard about to turn in, he passed on the order to have Aderyn sent to Gaius' quarters and referred the guard to the king, should he need confirmation, and then proceeded to the said place himself.

When he opened the door, Gaius was preparing some very late meal for them both and the old man greeted Merlin with a soft smile.

"We need to set for one more person," Merlin beamed.

"Aderyn?" Gaius guessed.

"Precisely."

"How did you persuade Arthur to let her go?" the old man asked, puzzled.

"I had to tell him about our family relation, I'm afraid," Merlin said, regret evident in his dark blue eyes.

Gaius straightened: "My word. How did he take that?"

"Better than expected, but then, he was very, very tired."

"And ... does he know about me?" Gaius asked with a hint of anxiety in his voice.

Merlin looked at the slightly worried old face and then realised what the court physician meant.

"Oh! I see. No, I haven't told him. But surely, if he didn't kill me, he will spare you as well."

"I'm not so sure," Gaius mumbled. His young friend patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Arthur has ordered me to tell him everything. You should probably tell him about your part yourself first."

Gaius sighed, hoping that Merlin would be every nearby to shield him from flying, sharp objects.

And then there was the expected knock on the door and Merlin went to answer it.

As soon as they had Aderyn unshackled and the guard sent away, they sat her down by the table, making sure she was taken care of. Formal introductions were made and the seer's eyes lit up when she understood that Balinor owed his life to Gaius. She grabbed the physician's hands with both of hers.

"I can't thank you enough. Compliments to your courage and altruism, I now have a nephew, and Balinor enjoyed a period of grace with a family."

"He talked about you, you know." Gaius said, his eyes soft and somewhat glazed.

"Did he? What did he say?" Aderyn wanted to know.

"He did?" Merlin interjected, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Because of how the times were back then, he expressed himself rather enigmatically, which made it difficult to determine whether or not there was anything to tell."

And then the old physician narrated what he remembered.

"So you see, my dear. It was your name that made me suspect your origin," he concluded.

The seer grinned, her voice thick with emotion. "He always called me that. His little bird."

Gaius nodded and then turned to his ward.

"Merlin, your mother never said much about your father, but she did mention one thing when I asked her about her chosen name for you."

The warlock looked at his old friend with a puzzled expression.

"She said: Why I called him Merlin? Because of the one thing that Balinor told me about his past - that before he fled, he managed to save a little bird whom he hoped would one day return and be allowed to live in peace."

Gaius paused before he continued, his voice gentle.

"I am not sure she knew he was talking about a person, but Hunith found that story so beautiful so when you were born, she felt your father had had a part in naming you if she called you Merlin."

Neither Aderyn nor Merlin said anything. However, underneath the table, two hands reached out and touched.

x

**Epilogue**

A couple of days later, Merlin stood in the castle yard, holding a robust bay horse that patiently waited for its rider. Aderyn was fastening the girth and making sure the saddle was placed correctly on the horse's back. The mount had been a gift from the King and to his great surprise, she had chosen a a very solid and well balanced horse contrary to the noble war horses he had shown her.

"I'm not heading for a battle, I hope," she had told him, "I'm simply heading home and the road is stony and long, so I need a horse that will carry me all the way and still some."

To Merlin she added, whispering:

" - and a horse that won't have me assaulted by envious thieves all the way to Alba."

Merlin grinned and the King, shaking his blonde head, let her choose to her heart's content.

And now, here they stood, the King having left them to say their goodbyes in privacy. It had been an amazing couple of days in which Aderyn had told him as many stories from her childhood with Balinor as she could remember, and the warlock in turn had told her about Balinor's last hours and his own life in Ealdor. Her nephew had, on his knees, begged her to stay, but she had smiled and said that though the whole voyage had moved her heart, she had still lived in Alba for the majority of her life, and it was, after all, her home. She had friends to return to and people to help in the constant strife with the Picts.

"You will come back?" Merlin needed her assurance. "Of course," she said. "I'll be back in a couple of months – and you can visit me any time you like. After all … you do have a knack of appearing when least expected," she added and winked at him.

"I so wished we could have visited my mother together," Merlin said wistfully.

"But you have much to do after the King has discovered your true potential. I shall see her on my way back to Alba and some time in the future, we will go together."

"I do wish you would accept an escorting guard on your trip," Merlin implored, his face somewhat concerned.

Aderyn looked up from her handy work.

"You are kidding, aren't you?" then she put her hands on her hips. "I made it all the way from the north – by foot. I dodged amorous drunkards, a vicious Druid priest and your own king, not to mention a very socially challenged witch. I'll be fine."

Something in her tirade had caught Merlin's attention.

"Druid priest? Who was that?"

"Alator of the Catha. Stay away from him, Nephew. He's bad news even if he did profess to being your supporter."

"_Alator_," Merlin exclaimed, "I know him already."

"You do?"

"Yes, the bastard tortured Gaius. Morgana had hired him to extract information about Emrys from Gaius," Merlin told her, his voice deep with outrage at the memory.

Aderyn was shaking her head. "I'm not surprised. So that's how he knew about you. And why he asked me to keep your secret should I stumble upon your identity."

"He didn't … touch you, did he?" the young dragonlord said, his voice laced with trembling anger in advance. Aderyn smiled and reached out a calming hand.

"No, no. Don't worry about it. He did try, but I have a very efficient defensive weapon that all Druids fear."

"What is it?"

"By a touch and a glance I can show you your future. Now, some people might find that fascinating and these people are even willing to pay me to do it. But the Druids know what a curse knowing one's future can be. Because they know … that whatever they see, it can't be averted. It's a terrible, terrible knowledge to live with."

"And..." asked Merlin softly, "did you show Alator his future?"

"No," Aderyn said, "but when he reached for me, I reminded him that I could and that made him retract, wisely."

"I will contact him and tell him to stay the hell away from you," Merlin said in a low menacing voice. A voice that sent small shivers down Aderyn's spine as she heard the potential for dangerous and undiluted rage in the young man. All of a sudden she feared for Alator's life.

"Don't bother, Merlin-dear. The rumour that Emrys has been exposed and that the King supports him will keep the priest away from me. Instead, he might come to see you."

Merlin nodded.

"I shall be ready for him."

"Say _hi_ from me," she grinned toothily and turned to finish adjusting the tack. She finally looked at Merlin and her eyes told him that she was ready to go and say her last farewell. Again he felt the familiar lump in his throat. He couldn't believe that she was going already.

"We'll meet again soon," she said softly, interpreting his expression correctly, "and remember, Merlin, you can always just 'drop in'."

The sorcerer nodded, unable to speak, but wrapped his arms round her instead, his gentle sigh muffled and drowning in her hair. She finally untangled herself from his firm arms, dropped a feather-light kiss on his cheek and turned to her horse. Then, as if on a second thought, she looked at him again, saying one last thing:

"Oh, I should tell you – there's no way that Morgana managed to disappear from the dungeons on her own."

"What makes you say that? The shield wasn't in place at the time."

"No," Aderyn mounted the horse that obediently stood absolutely still, proving to her that she had chosen the right one, "but the thing is, while the King, Queen and knights were busy gaping at the manservant turned sorcerer, Morgana was coming to. I gave her the future-treatment, which sent her down into her personal abyss of hell."

Balinor's sister squinted her eyes to ascertain her nephew's expression. Did he understand the implications of what she was saying? To emphasise the point, she continued:

"Merlin, when people are subjected to that, they become snivelling and drooling weaklings – regardless of their powers prior to my prediction. Morgana could not have performed the disappearance herself. She had help from the outside. And that's a fact."

Merlin looked at her, contemplating her words, keenly aware that the battle might have been won, but the war was still on.

"Thank you. I will tell the King."

"He must see that," the seer urged, "– even if he is a dollophead," she added with a smirk.

Merlin's clear laughter travelled through the alleys and streets of Camelot as his aunt rode out of the citadel.

x

In the mountains, the cold air was playing hide and seek among the sharp rocks. The young Druid with the dark hair of shoulder length put yet another blanket round the shivering form that once had been the formidable Morgana. Then he closed his eyes, concentrated and called her soul with his mind, but received no reply. The failure did not shake the adolescent Druid. He knew that everything took time and that he would reach her eventually. And then the long, arduous healing would begin and _Morgan le Fay _would rise once again.

The young man opened his clear, grey eyes, and never talking, he formed one statement in his mind.

_Emrys. I have never forgotten._

x

_**All done! How did you like it? Tell me good and bad so that I might better myself till next time we meet. :-)**_


End file.
